


Con Alcuna Licenza

by KittenzCaboodle



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Overwatch, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Attempt at Humor, Background Relationships, Best Friends, Character Development, Complete, Crush at First Sight, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Dorks in Love, Drama, Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, First Love, First Meetings, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Gay, Gay Male Character, Happy Ending, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Inspired by Music, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Character of Color, Long-Distance Relationship, Love at First Sight, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Multiple Pairings, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, POV Female Character, POV Lesbian Character, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Plot, Romance, Sexual Humor, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Useless Lesbians, other characters not mentioned in tags, slight age change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:26:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 131,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24835318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittenzCaboodle/pseuds/KittenzCaboodle
Summary: Con Alcuna Licenza: adverbcon al·cu·na li·cen·za |with some freedom — used as a direction in musicWhen superstar DJ Lucio has a televised fumble in New York City, on the last show of his tour, his Vishkar record label manager Satya Vaswani insists he take a night off to relax and takes him to dine at The Echo Lounge and Bar the night before they fly back to LA.A chance encounter there with a handsome singer on the karaoke stage sets off a chain reaction for Lucio and he begins to yearn for something more.Lucio Correia dos Santos is no quitter and he will find his Con Alcuna Licenza somehow, even if it means daring to break free of the status quo.  As the desire for a new life grows stronger, lives will be changed, for himself, for friends both new and old, and especially for the man he met at the bar, the man he can't get out of his dreams, Jean-Baptiste Augustin.
Relationships: Jean-Baptiste Augustin/Lúcio Correia dos Santos, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Other Minor Relationships Implied, Sombra | Olivia Colomar/Satya "Symmetra" Vaswani
Comments: 13
Kudos: 48





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Pride Month! Worked on this fic a lot to make sure it got out on time for Pride, specifially for June 21st because, this year, that's World Music Day (because it's a Lucio fic and that's just too fitting, you know?)
> 
> A million thanks to my Beta Reader @Linnet_Melody (on Twitter) for working with me, reading over 500 pages of writing (all 15 chapters), pointing out the pieces that needed some extra love (and not being shy about telling me the parts she enjoyed=] )and taking so much time in helping me make this fic the best it can be. 
> 
> You were fantastic to work with and you put up with all my nerding out over my own work. Thank you so much for all the help!
> 
> *Chapter warnings  
> None
> 
> Happy reading! <3

The preshow band finished their set and had begun packing up. The roar of the crowd's anticipation shook Oladele Amphitheater, the massive outdoor venue. Their energetic chant was chaotic until they found their own sense of rhythm and cheered on the incoming arrival of their favorite DJ.

**_Lucio! Lucio! Lucio!_ **

Lucio's heart pounded in his chest. His adrenaline would always spike as his stage-time grew near, infected by the crowd's boundless energy and his own growing excitement.

He waited with bated breath off stage right, bouncing excitedly on his skates. The practice runs had been numerous, everyone wanting to make sure the last show of his world tour was perfect.

Any second now, they would say his name over the speakers and he would skate out there and be welcomed with screams and cheers of his fans.

His energy was sky-high and nothing could bring him back down to earth.

Nothing except his manager Satya Vaswani, the handler assigned to him from the Vishkar record label. It was kind of her job to help keep him grounded at shows.

"You've had enough to drink, yes?" Satya asked him, a freshly chilled water bottle in hand. "You do not want to get dehydrated on stage."

Lucio wisely reached for the bottle, as Satya did have a point, but she pulled it away. With quick fingers, she unscrewed the cap and tilted the bottle towards him.

"You do not want to get your gloves wet, " she advised, "the last thing we need is for the equipment to short out because of damp hands."

"It wouldn't-"

"Do not argue with me, Lucio." She scolded, "the stage lights are hotter than you'd expect and you need to be in peak condition for the performance."

With a roll of his eyes, Lucio tilted his head back and let her slowly pour the water into his mouth. The importance of hydration had been pounded into his head for so long, so despite how much he wanted to argue with his sometimes overbearing manager, he bit his tongue.

One last performance and then he would get a break. Two quiet weeks to himself, thinking about nothing, and then he would begin to entertain the idea of his next album.

Swallowing the large mouthful of water, he held his hand up, silently asking for her to stop. That was enough for now. He didn’t want to go out on stage soaked in his own dribble and get lambasted for it on the late night entertainment news.

With a nod, she capped the bottle. “Do your best,” she said, encouraging him in her own oddly strict way.

“Always do,” he said, pulling on the electronic frog helmet, a helmet he himself had made. Its eyes lit up yellow and green, his colors, and pulsed to the music. It was a tight fit even with his hair netted, but it was fine. It was only for a little while.

They had pulled the gold costume for him tonight, and he had matched his helmet to it, though he personally preferred the silver set. He fingered the clasp on the helmet, ensuring it was snapped tightly and that it was properly in place.

The crowd knew his name, but they didn’t know his face. All they knew was the frog-head helmet he wore. That helmet _was_ his face as far as the world knew. He preferred it that way. It gave him privacy.

Now ready for the show, he skated out onto the stage, gliding along as easily as he walked. He rolled up to his DJ stand, listening for the click of the mic in his helmet to tell him he was connected.

The roar of the screaming and cheering crowd made it difficult to catch, but he heard the click. He was now online.

 **_“Hello, NEW YOOOORK!_ ** ” he called out to the crowd, his voice echoing around the stadium. “ **_ARE! YOU! REAAAAADY?!_ **”

And then he began playing his set. It was routine at this point. He had been on tour for nearly three months now, performing around the world. The hustling and bustling city of New York was his last show, and, at Vishkar’s insistence, the show was being televised in an effort to bump up his second album’s sales. That’s all he had been doing for the last six months now, promoting his second album. 

If he were to be perfectly honest, it wasn’t his favorite album. The first one, his pet project, the one that had skyrocketed him to a signed contract with a record label, was his baby. The second one had been more churned out, with much more corporate meddling then he would have liked.

The beat was dropping in the third song. Raise hand. Hype the crowd.

But still, there were songs on here that he loved. His songs were like his children, but the ones that Vishkar had touched felt more like second cousins twice removed. He fought them on some songs but didn’t have enough weight in the ring to win every match, because he hadn’t been a star for that long. He won the most important bouts, with Satya’s assistance. That’s what mattered.

Normally he loved doing shows. The adrenaline, the crowd, the hype, he lived for it. But he was tired and he would be lying if he said that he wasn’t relying on near mechanical muscle memory to get him through this last song and dance.

Yell to the crowd **_“Oh, let’s break it down!_ ** _”._ Pump up the base in the sixth song. Get their bodies moving.

He was looking forward to relaxing in his hotel room, getting a nice long nap where he wouldn’t be awoken at four am for an hour-long workout before he could shower and eat breakfast, and then by six be doing practice runs until six pm, with an hour break for lunch.

And doing that over and over, starting fresh every new venue. Sweating inside this helmet for hours on end, muscles burning as he learned routines and had to prove he had them perfectly memorized to multiple people.

Rock out to the light show. Prepare for the final song and dance.

One of the biggest things he had been pushing was the single, _Breakdown_. There had been a music video and a dance that he closed every show with, a dance that had been teetering on going viral but had yet to take off enough for his label to relax their pressure.

The first few notes of the song played and Lucio skated out from behind his DJ stand, with nothing between him and the audience. Then he began to dance.

It too was mechanical. Swing left arm. Pump right arm, left foot shuffle behind right, and so on.

It would be fantastic to finally get to lay down in a quiet, dark hotel room. Out of the burning hot stage lights, to take off this sweaty helmet and take a nice cool shower.

As he reached the halfway point of the dance, right after he did a dolphin dive, popped up, and did a circular swing of his forearm, he realized something felt wrong.

The stage lights were too bright, too hot, too… there. The scream of the crowd was too loud, piercing his head. Something was very wrong. But still, he danced. Without even thinking, his body kept moving in the way it had trained for months.  
  
At least, it tried to.

His movements were jerky, he could feel it. Their usual smoothness had given way to a stiff reenactment. The crowd’s screaming was now just a dull roar, the pound of his heartbeat overtaking his ears. Breathing was getting hard, his chest was growing tight, and the sweat pooling down his face was nearly blinding him.

He had to get off the stage.

But he couldn’t.

But he needed to.

But the song was almost done.

He could hold out. Just another minute more.

He had to do it for the fans.

He couldn't fail them.

From day one, from his academy days Vishkar had always pounded a saying into his head: “ _No matter what happens, the show must go on. Until the curtain closes and the crowds go home, the show must go on._ ”

The show must go on. The show must go on somehow. He had to make sure it did. He wasn’t sure he could.

A panicked glance to his right and he saw Satya watching him from the wings of the stadium. That look on her face... she could see that something was wrong.

Lucio hoped she wasn’t angry. He was trying his best. Just like she had told him to.

After an eternity, the song ended. He finished his dance with a half-hearted flourish and immediately began skating to get offstage.

No encores, no goodbyes, no thank yous, no pushing his album, no flirting with the crowd, not like he had done on every other show.

He was passing out. Slowly. And, God help him, he didn’t want to do it on stage.

As he neared the side, he could feel his knees give out. His skates were too heavy to pick up. The remaining momentum propelled him forward, and within Satya’s outstretched reach.

She stepped forward, her foot just crossing the line onto the stage and her hand grabbing his wrist and pulling him towards her. She wasn’t supposed to be on stage, ever, she didn’t like to be. She must be really angry at him, to break one of her own rules like that.

One hand grabbed his wrist, the other wrapped around his back, and she pulled him against her. She hated touching others and being touched. That was another one of her rules. Another one she had broken, just like that.

He was pulled off stage and Satya turned them around, her back now to stage, and her shaking hands began fiddling with the clasp under his helmet as the two of them slowly made their way down to the ground. Her mouth was moving, and while Lucio could faintly hear her voice, he couldn’t make out what she was saying.

Other hands wrapped around him, holding him steady and propped upright as she finally popped his helmet off. The air felt like ice on his sweat-soaked skin, so sharp it hurt.

Her hands now rested on his shoulders and her wide eyes looked into his, her mouth saying something else that he didn’t catch.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped. It was all he could think to say.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he repeated it like it was his lifeline, the one thing keeping him from slipping under.

But it couldn’t sustain him forever. 

“I’m sorry.” his vision grew hazy, his body heavy, and the last thing he saw was Satya’s face, alternating between looking his way and calling out to someone else. He really hoped he wasn’t in trouble.

But he didn’t know that he wasn’t.

He blacked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos, comments, and feedback are always super appreciated!
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3
> 
> -
> 
> Minor characters that play a role in the fic but I didn't tag so as to not clog up their tags in no particular order:
> 
> Akande Ogundimu  
> Genji Shimada  
> Hanzo Shimada  
> Jesse McCree  
> Gabriel Reyes  
> Jack Morrison  
> Angela Ziegler  
> Sanjay Korpal (Slightly more than a minor character, but his role in the fic probably wouldn't be what someone looking for a Sanjay fic would want to read, so he's down here instead)
> 
> Questions, comments, or concerns? Hit me up on here or on my Twitter: https://twitter.com/KittenzCaboodle


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Chapter Warnings  
> None

High up in a New York hotel room, stars lighting up the night sky, Lucio lay flopped across Satya’s couch, remote control in his hands.

He had spent the night after the show in the emergency room, being treated for dehydration and exhaustion. Everything after he had ended up in Satya’s arms was a haze. He remembered hands grabbing him, being loaded onto a stretcher and the ambulance ride.   
  
Bits and pieces of the night floated in his head, like laying down in the bed, the room spinning every time he opened his eyes, a sweet-voiced blonde doctor checking in on him, an IV stuck into his arm.

They had wanted to keep him another night, but he had been given the option of early release if - and only if - he remained under his manager Satya’s watchful eye until he was cleared entirely. Two days later he was still being babysat.

So here he sat, water bottle on the side table, watching and rewatching the reports about the end of his show. Seeing himself on film, it was easy to pinpoint when he started to fall apart. Endless, on loop, he watched as he weakly skated to the stage side and how Satya’s arm reached out and pulled him in.

There was speculation after speculation about what had happened. Talk show hosts rambled their own thoughtless thoughts and brought up screenshots on message boards, all wondering what had happened to him. He was dying, they said. He wanted out of his contract and had blown the show on purpose. He had been poisoned. He was actually a woman and he was pregnant. He was a frog-robot and his systems had jammed.

Satya, who was sitting at a table with her laptop, peered over at the TV. “Are you ever going to turn that off?”

Lucio sighed in response, not willing to move from his fallen position on the couch.

He heard the sound of her laptop being closed. “That’s it,” she said, pushing her chair back as she stood up. “All you’ve done is lay around and mope for the last two days. Enough.”

“Was told not to exert m’self,” he mumbled, cheek pressed against the couch cushion. “‘N ‘m not.”

Now she stood in front him, blocking his view of the tv, hands planted on her hips. “Turn the tv off.” she ordered, “We’re going to get something to eat.”

Lucio cast a glance out the large windows, at the dark night outside. “Not room service? Or delivery?”

“We’ve been in this room for the last two days. I think it would be for the best for both of us to get some fresh air,” she said, clapping her hands together. “Now get up. Wash your face. Put on clean clothes. We’re going.”

Sitting up reluctantly, Lucio groaned and rubbed his sore neck. “Where are we going at this time of night?”

Sending him a pointed look, she pulled out her phone and turned away. “I will figure that out and get us a ride there,” she said decidedly, “Go get dressed.”

Shoving himself upright, Lucio slowly headed towards a bedroom. He pulled out some clothes. She probably didn’t mean for him to change out of sweatshirt and sweatpants into another sweatshirt and sweatpants, but he did. They were clean, just like she had wanted, and hopefully warm enough for a late-October night in New York City

He splashed some water on his face and returned to the main room, where Satya was leaning against the arm of the couch, legs neatly crossed, and fingers nimbly tapping at the screen of her phone. Hearing him enter the room, she turned her head to look at him. She gave his outfit a quick look up and down, but apparently decided that it wasn’t a fight worth having.

“Ready?” she asked him, eyes returning to her phone.

He plucked his wallet and phone off of the counter and shoved it in a pocket of his pants. “Now I am.” he said, “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” was all she said, standing up. Her heeled boots gave her another few inches on Lucio, and her midi-length business dress was a stark contrast to Lucio’s get-up.

He followed her down to the outside of the hotel, where a car was waiting for them. She handled the interaction, confirming the directions with the driver and getting them to the restaurant.

Thanks to Satya having made a reservation on her phone, they were seated quickly despite the crowd.

The inside was a dimly-lit hole in the wall type of restaurant, but one with its own kind of class.

The small wooden tables were nicked, showing signs of well-used love. Lanterns adorned every table, both the small tables in the middle of the room, as well as the booths on the edges.

On the far side of the room was a small but well-stocked bar with a few stools standing in front of it. On the same wall, down a ways, was the path to the kitchen, with servers rushing in and out the swinging doors.

"Didn't think this was the kind of place you would pick," Lucio murmured after they were seated.

"It has good reviews-" Satya said, unfolding a napkin and placing it in her lap.

"We're in New York with a million places to eat. A lot of places do." Lucio had to point out.

"-and it was open at one in the morning. And close by." She finished, opening up the menu the hostess had left for them. "What would you like to eat?"

Opening his own menu, his eyes skated down the page, trying to find something that sounded appetizing. Nothing stood out. Except…

“Mind if I drink?” he asked.

“You need to stay hydrated, so I don’t mind-” she paused, realizing what he meant. “You may have one alcoholic drink. No refills. You're a lightweight. And you must have a glass of water as well as something to eat. Protein and carbs, mainly protein for this meal. Have at it.”

That was more stipulations than he liked, but he would take it. “Alright,” he agreed, starting at the beginning of the menu again.

“The Jack Daniels chicken sandwich and keeping the BBQ sauce, bacon, and cheese, but I order a veggie medley with a baked potato instead of fries,” he tried. 

“Split a Waldorf salad with me to start and you have a deal,” she agreed.

It wasn’t long after their discussion that a waitress arrived to the table and took their order. Lucio ordered his agreed-upon meal, a glass of water, and a Caipirinha. Satya ordered a roasted vegetable pita with an avocado spread, a side of falafels, and an extra side of fries, much to Lucio’s surprise. Satya was not normally a fry-eater, even though they usually fit into her vegan lifestyle.

She also ordered water and a glass of Pinot Noir, but _that_ wasn’t a surprise at all.

The waitress brought their drinks to the table not too long after they ordered, and Lucio made sure to only sip at his Caipirinha, because he wanted it to last. He was only allowed one after all.

Lucio glanced around the room. There was one tv on the top of the bar playing some basketball game. There was a stage behind him, with a microphone, speakers, and a screen on the wall. Numerous tables were dotted throughout the dining room, most of them filled despite how late it was.

Satya was scrolling on her phone, probably reading emails. Lucio reached into his own pocket and pulled his own out, wanting something to do, but before he could power it on, Satya scolded him.

“No using your phone,” she said, her eyes not moving from her own phone’s screen. “We’re here to relax. So, relax.”

Without a word, Lucio placed his phone down, the screen on the table, wondering how she was always able to know everything. This wasn’t the first time she had noticed him doing something without even looking his way.

“Thank you,” she said, tapping on her phone’s screen a few times before she placed hers down. “This is time for us to take a break from the world and enjoy a meal in peace and-”

There was the screechy feedback of a microphone and music began playing from the stage. A clearly drunk patron picked a song and began singing an off-key version of _Chandelier_ , which involved more screaming than singing.

“-quiet.” she finished sadly, glancing at the stage. “Their website said there were live bands, but no one playing tonight, why is-”

Her eyes widened and she snatched her phone back off of the table, quickly typing and scrolling on it.

After a minute, a frown grew on her face. “There is karaoke available, Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays.” 

Lucio’s brow knit. “Is today-”

“Thursday? Yes,” she finished the thought for him, wincing at the noise around her. “I hope the next singer is… adequate.”

Adequate was the best word to describe the next one. A woman sang _Country Roads_ , but at least her voice was more sweet than sour on the ears. Still, she was clearly drunk and it showed.

Satya’s eyes shut tight and her hands rubbed at her temples. She wasn’t a fan of noisy chaos. Concerts were organized and had structure, she had learned to handle those, but this clearly frayed her nerves.

Their food was thankfully brought to the table not too long after the woman had finished her song. There was a blissful silence where she exited the stage and no one followed up to take her place.

“Do you want to get this to-go?” Lucio asked her quietly, nodding towards their plates.

“No.” she said, finally opening up her eyes. “Eat and enjoy your food. I’m fine.”

Casting one last doubtful look, Lucio began to eat. The sandwich looked absolutely delicious, and it only took one bite to confirm that fact. The sweet tangy of the BBQ sauce paired beautifully with the cheese and chicken, and a soft greasy roll made for the perfect bun.

Satya’s food also looked delicious, but Lucio had ordered his dish for a reason. Thankfully, throughout the meal, there were only sparse performances, most not entirely unbearable. The two of them both agreed to a second alcoholic drink, despite their earlier talk, to help them survive the karaoke sessions.

However, near the end of their delightful outing, a clearly intoxicated blonde stumbled up onto the stage and began to screech out her own rendition of _Set Fire to the Rain_.

To Satya’s credit, she lasted about a minute before she desperately flicked on her phone and saw a missed call. Lucio wouldn’t _say_ that he saw her shoulders sag in relief, but he knew that he had.

“I have to go take a call. Outside,” she said, pushing her chair out and delicately placing her napkin back onto the table. She gently pushed her plate of untouched fries his way. “These are yours. I ordered them for you. A treat. Enjoy them. I’ll be back shortly. Do not leave the table.”

She power-walked out of the restaurant, her gait so authoritative that Lucio saw at least two people almost leap out of her way. If he leaned over, he could just see her pacing by the front window of the establishment.

His own food long since eaten, he began nibbling at the fries she had ordered for him - how had she known that he wanted them? - as he sipped at the rest of his Caipirinha.

As he nibbled away, his back to the stage, he heard another song starting. He rolled his eyes, trying to prepare himself for another drunk round of screaming as he heard the first few notes of the song.

Then he heard the heavenly voice, and his head shot up.

_All my life, been hustling_

_And tonight is my appraisal_

_'Cause I'm a hooker sellin' songs_

_And my pimp's a record label_

The voice was angelic, sweet syrupy music that was sinfully dripping into his ears. His head whipped around. He had to see who possessed a voice so magical.

_This world is full of demons_

_Stocks and bonds and bible traders_

_So I do the deed, get up and leave_

_A climber and a sadist, yeah_

An absolute adonis stood up on the stage, the light shining off of his umber skin, and his dark button-up shirt clinging to his muscles. A dark, curly mop of hair sat on the top of his head, neatly shaved on the sides, slightly foofy up top. He had the looks that books take pages to tell and a face to make you fall on your knees

His bright white smile lit up the room, and Lucio could see no one else but him.

_Are you ready for the sequel?_

_Ain't you ready for the latest?_

_In the garden of evil_

_I'm gonna be the greatest_

His voice was so pure it sounded like he was singing to Lucio’s very soul. The words resonated deep inside him, much easier to swallow when they dripped along on a voice like honey.

He stood firm at the microphone, confidence exuding from every pore, but as the lyrics to the verse finished and the music continued to play, he danced. His hips rolled smoothly, his dancing was loose and graceful, almost playful even.

There was still confidence, but it was second to the other aura present: fun.

He was having fun on the stage, singing his heart out and having a ball. The song was him having a good time, and it was clear that he was inviting the whole room to join him.

Then, he straightened up and steadied himself as he began to sing once more.

Lucio’s head rested on his hand, a dopey grin on his face as he enjoyed the show. The man’s sleeves were rolled up a quarter of the way, and his muscles glistened under the lights as he held the microphone on the stand. They were thick and sturdy, his strength evident even from here.

_Friends are happy for me_

_Or they're honey-suckle phonies_

_Then they celebrate my medals_

_Or they wanna take my trophies_

As he listened to the voice, his smile grew bigger, and he sank further into his seat. Where had this singer been all night? He was amazing. Lucio could have listened to him forever.

But far too soon, the song ended. With one brief bow, the man stepped off stage, disappearing before Lucio could register what was happening. He blinked and his musical angel was gone far too soon.

Not too long after that, Satya returned to the table. Her eyes lingered on her phone as she sat back down.

“Are you finished?” she asked, eyes moving to his face. As she looked at him, they narrowed and she spoke slowly. “What happened?”  
  
“Hmm?” Lucio hummed in reply.

“You’re smiling.” she said suspiciously. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Lucio tried to assure her. Judging by her squint, she wasn’t buying it, so he continued. “There was a good singer. Like, really good. You just missed him.”

She glanced over at the now-empty stage and at Lucio’s now empty glass. “I’ll take your word for it,” she said simply. “Are you finished and ready to leave or would you like to sit here longer?”

He turned around in his chair, looking at the empty stage, hoping to catch a glance of his mystery man, but alas he was long gone. “I’m ready to go.” he told her.

“Then let me get the check and we’ll be on our way.” she raised a hand, signalling for their waitress. After she paid and left a handsome tip, the two of them headed outside. She led him over to a car, a different one than before, and they caught a ride back to their room.

“Should I put a movie on?” she asked him after they had gotten settled back in the room. “There’s quite the list of channels, I’m sure there’s something to watch.”

“Nah, but thanks,” Lucio said, making her raise an eyebrow at him.

“You’re not turning it back on the news-”

“Nope. It’s been a while since I’ve had a meal that heavy, and it’s making me sleepy.” he told her. “I think I’m gonna go to sleep for the night.”

She relaxed at his words. “In a bed this time?”

“Yep.”

“Good.” she placed the remote back down on the table. “A bed will be much more comfortable than the couch you’ve been laying on for the last two nights.”

“Yeah,” he said, heading towards the bedroom, “Good nigh-”

“Brush your teeth.” she reminded him.

“I will.” he promised. “Good nigh-”

“And wash your face.”

“I always do.” he reminded her, “Good nigh-”

“In that order. To lessen breakouts.”

“Absolutely.” he said, “Good night.”

“Good night, Lucio.” she said, heading back to the table to continue working.

He paused in the doorway. “Aren’t you going to sleep?” he asked her.

“I will once I’m done with my work.” she assured him.

“Ah.” it came to mind that she might have already finished her work if she hadn’t had to drag him out of the room earlier. “Hey, Satya?”

Her swift fingers paused and she glanced his way. “Yes?”

“Thanks for dinner. I needed that.” he told her.

She tilted her head and gave him a side-eye. “Everyone needs to eat, Lucio.”

“I mean the metaphorical butt-kicking you gave me.” he said, “But the food was pretty bomb too.”

“It’s what I’m here for,” she said with a small smile on her lips, eyes returning to her computer screen, “You’re very welcome. I’m glad you enjoyed the meal, now get some sleep.”

Lucio went to get ready for bed, a song playing in his head as he brushed his teeth, and even found himself humming as he washed his face. As his head hit the pillow, he whispered the lyrics into the dark room.

_Are you ready for the sequel?_

_Ain't you ready for the latest?_

_In the garden of evil_

_I'm gonna be the greatest_

And as he fell asleep that night, there was his mystery man’s smiling face and beautiful voice, guiding him off to the most restful sleep he’d had in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos, comments, and feedback are always super appreciated!
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3
> 
> Questions, comments, or concerns? Hit me up on here or on my Twitter: https://twitter.com/KittenzCaboodle


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Chapter warnings  
> Slight NSFW text
> 
> Happy reading! <3

One month later, Lucio sat at a table in his condo, head in his hands as he stared at the blank page in front of him. The last few days had been terrible and this current struggle was about to make him snap.

Not too long after they had returned from New York, Lucio was being prepped for a TV appearance.

_ “All you have to do is talk for a few minutes about the album,” Satya assured him during the practice run, “And then they cut to commercial. By the time they return, you will be on the stage and dancing to your song  _ **_Breakdown_ ** _ to close the show. Play to the audience.” she motioned towards the now empty seats. _

_ Lucio nodded, double-checking that he was mic’ed up properly. He knew he was. He and the show host had just gone through some practice questions together, so that there was no reason for him to be nervous once they were live. _

_ Now, all that was left of their practice run was him going through the end performance so that the stage crew could check the lights and sound. The thumping beats of the base started playing and Lucio rocked back and forth on his toes until the bass dropped. _

_ Once it did, he began to swing his arms and move his feet in a well-practiced routine. As he hit the half-way point of the song, something began to feel off. _

_ His chest began growing tight and a pounding grew loud in his ears. He tried to keep going. He really did. _

_ But as his vision began to swim, and his panic grew too large to contain, he gave up. Crouching down, huddling into a ball in the middle of the empty stage, Lucio admitted defeat before he hit the floor again. _

_ The music was immediately halted and Satya was beside him in a flash. _

_ “What happened?” she asked him. _

_ “I don’t- don’t know,” he said, fighting to talk through his harsh breathing, “I can’t. I can’t.” _

_ Her hand rested on his back for a minute before she got to her feet. “We need to rearrange the show,” she told the crew decidedly. “Start the segment with  _ **_Breakdown_ ** _ playing before the interview. No dance number at the end. Just the interview.” _

_ Sanjay, the sole executive of Vishkar’s North American office in California, which meant he was kind of Lucio’s boss, was immediately called by one of the other assistants attending the show. The phone was shoved into Satya’s hand. _

_ “You’re supposed to be managing him, my parents- my supervisors demand perfection,” his anger was crystal clear through the speaker, “Make him perform.” _

_ “I am managing him,” she said, with barely a tremble in her voice, “That’s why he won’t. Not this time.” _

_ Lucio didn’t dare raise his head while this stand-off was happening right in front of him. Satya had always said that the best way to talk to Sanjay was over the phone; the executive was infamous internally for his temper and pettiness and tables had been flipped, papers shredded, careers destroyed in his presence. _

_ Satya glanced back at his curled up form and switched to speaking Hindi to Sanjay, their discussion tense. She was trying to keep Lucio on the sidelines and out of this fight. Bless her. _

_ Finally, she placed a hand on his back, “Can you stand?” she asked him quietly.  
  
_ _ With a nod, Lucio carefully got to his feet, using her for balance. “Yeah,” he finally said. _

_ “Let us go have a seat,” she said, leading him over to the chair he would be sitting on shortly during the interview. “And a drink, and we’ll take some deep, calming breaths, yes?” _

_ She led him in some controlled breathing exercises,working with him patiently until he managed to calm down. _

_ “Can you do the show if we cut the dance number?” she asked him once he had calmed down. _

_ Lucio thought about it, mentally running through the show with just the interview.  _

_ “Yeah.” he finally said, trying to keep the disappointment in himself off of his face. What good was a performer that couldn’t perform? _

_ Satya continued talking. “Do you feel confident in handling the interview?” _

_ “Mmm hmm.” he grunted in reply. _

_ “We told the host not to ask about the New York performance, but if he does, do you know what to say?” _

_ “Dehydration because of the stage lights, and I didn’t want to scare the fans, so I made sure to get off stage and out of sight.” _

_ “Play the ‘concern for your fans’ angle hard,” she advised him, “Build up the sympathy and end the questions once and for all. Then we can all move on from it.” _

_ “Okay.” he tried to calm down the heart racing in his chest. _

_ “It’ll be ten minutes. Not a second more,” she told him, “You’ll have your mask, so they won’t see you sweat. You can handle this. I know you can.” _

_ “I can handle this.” he repeated, searching deep inside himself for that confidence Satya saw. He didn’t find it. He wasn’t sure it existed anymore. _

_ “Don’t worry about the dance,” she told him, “We’ll figure that out later. All you have to do is talk. As someone who has been managing you for a while, I can assure you, you are very good at talking. You practice all the time. This is no different.” _

_ Despite himself, he chuckled quietly at her teasing. She was right. It was just talking. He could do that. _

_ And with Satya’s reassurances, and another quick practice run of the questions, the live interview went on without a hitch. _

_ Almost without a hitch. _

_ As they were wrapping up, the host dropped a surprise question, one that neither Satya or Lucio had been ready for. Apparently Sanjay had phoned in, on orders from Vishkar, and told them to ask Lucio about his next album he was going to be working on. _

_ Something Lucio hadn’t even known he was going to be doing already. _

_ He managed to bullshit an answer after only a momentary pause, about how he was looking forward to trying new techniques and bringing a new sound to his music, while staying faithful to his original sound, and how he couldn’t wait to show off his work once he was done. All filler talk that hopefully covered up how clueless he was about what was going on. _

_ When the interview was over, Satya was on the phone with Sanjay, trying to figure out what was going on. Her face did nothing to hide her frustration, and, as soon as she noticed Lucio walking her way, she turned her back to him as she talked. _

_ After a minute, she turned around, clicking off the phone. “I hope you’re ready to begin another album,” she said, “Because they won’t take no for an answer.” _

  
\-------------

So here he sat, musical keyboard set up to his right, scribbled on paper in front of him, frantically trying to write something that didn’t sound like the jingle to a cat food commercial.

Nothing sounded good. It was all robotic presses of keys, there was no soul to his music because he wasn’t being given time to let the musical flavors develop.

This is why the last album hadn’t touched his first’s records. It had sold decently, but only about half as well as his baby. But they wanted another one shat out to try to ride the second’s flaccid coattails.

There was a knock on his flat’s door. Five quick ones. That was Satya at the door. Alone.

“Come on in,” he hollered.

A key turned in the door and it swung open, with Satya carefully shutting it behind her. She had a paper bag in her hand and a scent of hot, fresh food wafted into the room with her, making his mouth water. It smelled like the Mediterranean restaurant she liked to drag him to sometimes.

“I brought some lunch,” she said, placing the bag down on the counter. She also placed a white folder down, giving Lucio pause. She usually didn’t cart her work around like that. She preferred everything digital. It was more organized that way.

“What did you bring?” he asked.

“Grilled pita and hummus for me, and a Mediterranean salad bowl as well.” she said, pulling out the take-out containers, “And for you, two grilled steak skewers and a small loaded Mediterranean street fries, as a treat.”

While that sounded delicious, Lucio’s lips pursed suspiciously. Whenever she treated him, it meant that she was trying to make up for something. As far as he knew, there was nothing she needed to apologize for, which meant that it was very likely that whatever was in that folder wasn’t good news.

“What else did you bring?” he asked, nodding towards the folder in her hands.

“Oh, this?” she said, “Vishkar is not happy with how long it’s taking you to write, so they sent some lyrics with me that their writers were working on. I’ve yet to look at them myself. I thought we could over lunch.”

He flipped over the paper he had been scribbling on, hiding it. “I’ve never written lyrics before. I write music, not words,” he said, “I don’t think it’s fair to spring a demand for lyrics on me like that.”

“I know. I know.” she said calmly, approaching his desk with their lunch and the folder. “It was a surprise for me too.”

Satya had been the one to deliver the initial message to him. Vishkar wanted a single to market, and they wanted one soon. Their latest demand was for a song with lyrics; it made for easier marketing if there was something to get stuck in the listeners’ heads and to sing.

It would be an innovation, they had said. Something to stand out and get the music world’s attention after his last album hadn’t done as well as predicted.

“Pull ‘em on out,” he sighed, taking his food from her, “Let’s see ‘em.”

With a soft nod, Satya pulled a neat stack of papers out of her pristine folder, handing the first two sheets to him, and took the next two for herself.

Before he even glanced at the paper he held, he watched Satya’s face as she read her own. At first her eyes widened, then her brow furrowed, and then she frowned heavily. Clearly, what she held was going to be a future hit. Not.

“Got a good one?” he asked, head resting on his hand, teeth tugging at the first juicy piece of meat on the skewer.

“Ahm. Well. I’m…” she paused awkwardly, “...not the one whose name will be attached to it, so it’s really not my place to influence you one way or another-”

“But as a friend?”

“As a friend,” she swallowed, “I would recommend that this song ‘ _ Bends on my Benz _ ’, a melody about fornication with a beautiful girl on a fancy car might not be the best  _ first  _ lyrical masterpiece we’re hoping for you.”

“Yeah. And mine’s not much better,” he said, lazily chewing the next piece of seasoned meat.

“How bad?”  
  
“Allow me to recite the lyrical genius of  _ ‘Double Jointed’.  _ He coughed to clear his throat, and in his poshest voice, spoke.

_ I call that girl my Scooby _

_ Because she got a doobie duo _

_ An’ she bending like she rubba’ _

_ Girl’s her own damn freak show _

_ Tongue slipping an’ dipping _

_ Getting my dick anointed _

_ Ooh, baby baby _

_ Double Jointed _

He glanced up from the paper and was met with Satya’s blushing face, hand frozen in the air clutching a hummus-covered piece of pita. “Shall I continue?” he asked her.

“No, no, that’s enough,” she said, staring at the food in her hand, “Perhaps it sounds better when not read like an old English poem…?”

“You and I both know that the only thing that will fix that mess would be a bottle of white-out or, better yet, a shredder.”

“Indeed,” she agreed reluctantly, pawing through the other papers. “Well, maybe there’s something in here that’s not so… crude.”

“I think there’s a reason that these are the leftover songs,” Lucio commented idly, nibbling at his fries, “I don’t want anything abrasive, about mindless sex or owning fancy things, y’know? That’s not what my music is about. It’s for lifting people up, not bringing them down.”

“I’m sure there’s something in here that will work as a jumping-off point at least,” she said hopefully.

But, alas, despite how lax Lucio’s wants were, they couldn’t find a song that met his guidelines.  _ Hot Wheeling and Dealing _ was about driving dangerously and drugs,  _ Tricycle  _ was about a threeway with two women,  _ Lil’ Red  _ was about pursuing a red-headed woman and borderline stalking her until she climbed into bed,  _ Diamond Club’s Aces  _ was about nightclub attendees drinking and doing drugs, and then, you guessed it, fucking into the night.

Lucio angrily threw  _ Licorice _ down on the table. It had started cute, had a 50s vibe to it, sounded like a candy store owner singing about his wares, about how he loves a good sucker, one that makes your mouth pucker, and just tastes delish, and no matter your flavor, there’s something to savor, so don’tcha go choking on my licorice…

Wait.

Oh my God the licorice was a penis.

By the time they finished going through all the papers, their meals were long finished. Lucio carefully placed his trash in the takeout containers, being mindful of the paper he had been scribbling on.

“Why do I even have to have lyrics?” he said exasperatedly, “I’ve never needed them before. Just the occasional word here or there. That’s always been enough.”

“Innovation-”

He threw a dirty napkin on top of his trash pile. “Every time Vishkar tries to ‘innovate’ my work, they muck it up. Why innovate what works?”

Satya sighed, putting down her food on her “plate”. “You know Lena Oxton?” she asked.

He didn’t know her personally, no. “The British pop star?” he said, “Her song  _ License to Fly  _ has been on the charts for months now.”

“She made an announcement last night,” Satya said, “She’s dropping a rap album under the name T. Racer. She’s bleached her hair white, shaved the sides, is wearing these… skull glasses, dark makeup, it’s a total overhaul.”

Lucio blinked twice, fixated on the beginning of her sentence. “A  _ RAP  _ album?”

“Yes, called  **_Ultraviolet_ ** . She teased her song  _ Motormouth  _ last night. It’s good. It’s really good.” Satya said, “It’s new, fresh, the girl can rap faster than I’ve heard anyone do before. It’s shaking up the music world right now.”

Lucio’s heart grew tight in his chest. “Oh, wow.”

“The Do Something’s, the techno-country pop duo is doing a few shows with country star Jesse McCree, reuniting their first band, the country-rock group Deadlock Rebels.”

“Surprised they’re working together considering how they broke up awhile back-”

“Their tickets sold out in under an hour.” she said. “And have you heard of the family Shimada?”   


“Mom, dad, and two boys are the stars of the dance troupe, right?”

“Those boys are men now. And the elder brother won in a three year long lawsuit to remove their parents as their managers two months ago and is counter-suing them. Apparently they were withholding much of the profits, severely limiting what the boys could do, and controlling their lives to such an extent for years that it was considered severely abusive,” she said, “He now manages the younger brother. Hanzo, the elder, wanted out of the spotlight, but Genji, the younger, lives for it. Genji released a single last week,  _ Free as a Bird,  _ from his in-progress album  **Sparrow** . It’s number seven on the J-pop charts, and just charting in the states, and still climbing on both.”

“While I’m happy for the two of them, I really am, why are you telling me this?” Lucio asked her. “What’s the point?”

“The point is, if you don’t innovate and create and stay in the news, the world can and will move on,” she told him, “There’s too much else going on to wait for you, Lucio. Something new happens every day. You don’t want to get left behind, or else you might never catch up again.”

He greeted her words with silence, weighing the implications in his mind. “That’s not very reassuring,” he finally said.

“I can’t always be a voice of reassurance,” she sighed, “I’m here to be realistic. The facts are: you have to write a song, you have to have something to present soon, and what we have in front of us is utter crap and needs to be ignored. You can write something better than this, Lucio, you know what songs are wrong, so look inside yourself and find the song that’s right.”

Lucio nervously peered at the paper to his side. “I…  _ may  _ have started writing something. Uhm… do you want to see it?”

Her eyebrows had shot up. “If I may,” she said simply, “Please.”

He nervously reached over and grabbed the paper he had flipped over. His palms grew damp as he eyed the words he had written, wondering if they were still good at all.

“It’s not much,” he said quietly, “Just the start of an idea of a chorus.”

“You don’t need much,” she assured him, “Many songs nowadays just have that one hook repeated as a chorus and the rest is music. That should be enough for Vishkar’s demands.”

“Okay,” he nodded,one hand blindly reaching for the keyboard “...Do I have to sing it to you?”

“Sing or speak, either way.”

“Alright…” he took a breath and softly sang as he played a slow melody.

_ My heart has a lock _

_ But you are the key _

_ Slip inside and twist me open _

_ Go til’ I can’t breathe _

As he finished, he rubbed at the back of his neck. “I know it’s not much-”

“But it is a fantastic start. A sweet love song? I didn’t expect that out of you.” she said. “One other ABAB rhyme scheme added to that, a fantastic beat - which I know you can manage - and that will be it!”

“Really?” he sat up straighter in the chair, “You think so?”  
  
“I’ll fight for it to be so,” she told him straightly, “Many hit songs follow that formula. As long as it all sets up a hit in Vishkar’s eyes, we’re golden.”

Just one more ABAB rhyme tacked onto that? He could… that felt manageable. All he needed was one more wave of inspiration, a dream that gave him the next set of words, and he could move on. 

“Okay,” he said with a nod, “I can do that.”

“Wonderful.” she softly clapped her hands together, a sign that a plan had been put into action, “And as soon as you have the rest of the song written, we can get the music recorded and then book a recording studio for you to sing the vocals.”

Lucio’s teeth clamped down on his lip. “Um…”

Satya’s hands still hovered in front of her chest, the fingers tightly wrapping around each other as the trepidation in Lucio’s voice hit her.

“Um?” she repeated, fingers tightening around each other. “Why ‘um’?”

Lucio sucked in a deep breath. “I  _ really  _ don’t want to sing the vocals,” he said, “I’m not a singer. I don’t want to… I shouldn’t…”

Her fingers loosened as she listened to him. “We can find a singer,” she assured him. “Many DJs have other vocalists guest sing on tracks, you have before. We’ll find the right one for you, don’t worry.”

She pulled out her phone and began scrolling, looking through her list of contacts. The blue glow reflected in her dark eyes, her face a look of pure concentration as she weighed the options in front of her.

“Genji Shimada might be an eventual choice, but not for this song. He’ll be too busy promoting his album and doing interviews,” she said thoughtfully, “I helped advise his brother in managerial matters, so the elder will cut us some slack. Still, the man is a wolf, negotiations will not be easy.”

“Thought you said he could cut you some slack-”

“Yes, and that means he’ll even  _ entertain  _ the idea of a collaboration, many others would be told no at the start,” she said, “I’ll send him an email later and see if we can begin hashing something out. It won’t be in time for your song, though, so let me think...”

Her eyes returned to the list on her phone and she hummed mindlessly as she continued to look.

“Wilhelm Reinhardt, the retired German power metal singer, would absolutely sing on a track for you. He’s a big fan of yours,” she said, turning her phone towards Lucio. 

On the screen was a picture screenshotted from the grayhaired man’s QuikPik account, with the hulking giant posing in one of Lucio’s merch hats, beaming for the camera as he held a signed copy of Lucio’s first album. It was captioned, “ _ lOOK WHAT ARRIVED IN THE MAIL!! AT LAST!! AS YOU KIDS SAY, HIPPITTY HOPITTY THIS IS NOW MY TREASURED PROPERTY!! ♥♥♥♥ _

“He adores some of the younger artists, you included. He would positively leap at the chance to collaborate with you. He’s posted a few pictures about your work, the one I have saved is my favorite. He also posted well-wishes for you after… New York, quite a sweet man,” she said as she pulled the phone away. “Unfortunately, he’s currently on a tour with the XOXO-Force k-pop group, a new team-up of a few solo artists, namely Hana Song AKA D.Va. She's another music celebrity that Reinhardt adores, and it will be a while before he’s back in the states.”

“I would love to work with him in the future, but German Power Metal wasn’t what I had in mind for my song’s vocals.” Lucio said.

“Of course, though do consider writing a song for him to collab on in the future. He would do it in a heartbeat, market it insanely well, and it would help pull some of his fans your way,” she said, as she continued scrolling. “McCree’s busy, Siebren de Kuiper is working on a new classical album for children,  _ Can You Hear the Music?.  _ There's a new girl group, The Gun Shows, with a Swedish drummer, a pink-haired Russian keyboardist, and a guitar-playing singer that is retired violinist Ana Amari’s daughter. However, they’re going to be much more hard-edged rock than you would want.”

Her head was resting on her hand now and she leaned over in the chair. She was hitting dead-end after dead-end, and Lucio was trying to find it in himself to stop this pointless search.

“Well, there’a hillbilly Australian duo, the Junkers, that’s known for making their own instruments,” a big frown took over her lips, “But their musical talent is highly questionable and they would not be my first choice for you-”

He couldn’t stand it anymore. “I know who I want to sing the song,” he finally admitted, “I wrote it with their voice in mind.”

She shot upright in her seat, “Oh?” she said excitedly, “I mean, I cannot make any promises about being able to negotiate for them, Overwatch Records is protective of their many artists, but I can certainly try-”

“It’s the man from the bar, the one I heard singing. Back in New York,” Lucio admitted reluctantly. He knew she was going to be angry. They had already had this talk a few times before.

While she didn’t look angrily at him, she did look disappointed. That was worse. “Lucio…” she said carefully, her smile falling slowly, “We’ve talked about this.”

“I know-”

“And you can’t keep holding on to this fantasy singer of yours,” she said, “You were drunk. Everyone sounds good when you’re drunk.”

“I didn’t have that much to drink-”

“But you were drinking. You already didn’t have many fluids in you. You would get drunk faster,” she shook her head at him, “Lucio, you have to let this go. Even if he was the best singer in the world, we don’t know who he is. He’s nobody. And that won’t help you now.”

Lucio’s arms crossed defensively over his chest. “I was a nobody,” he said, “It was just luck of the pop star lottery that Vishkar decided it was my time, out of all the other hopefuls in their program. I’ve spent all my life working towards something that’s still not mine.”

“You had talent that made you stand out, they looked at you and saw a star-”

“I’m still a nobody. No one knows what Lucio looks like under that mask.” Lucio told her. “I could be replaced at any time. I could still be shoved to the side to make room for someone else. Don’t tell me I’m somebody, Vaswani, I’m a nobody, just like him. The only difference is I’m fooling everyone into thinking I’m something I’m not. I fail one time and it could all be pulled out from under me, no matter how hard I fight.”

“Lucio the DJ, they could replace. But you, Lucio, my client, my friend, they cannot,” Satya said quietly. She looked out the large windows and sighed, her eyes tired as she gazed back his way. “You’re not ever going to let this mystery man of yours go, are you?”

“I see him in my dreams sometimes. I hear his voice in them, and it’s that of an angel,” Lucio admitted, “There’s no one else that I want to sing this song of mine. It has to be him.”

Her fingers threaded nervously. “Say you even find him…” she swallowed nervously, “What if he doesn’t have the voice you’ve been dreaming about? What then?”

“He does. I know what I heard, Satya.” Lucio promised her, reluctantly adding, “And… if he didn’t, somehow, then I would find a way to move on. But, right now, I can’t. He has the voice I need for the song. It was written for him.”

Satya’s hands wrapped around each other, resting on her mouth. Her eyes were shut, a clear sign that she was deep in thought.

“We can take another trip to New York in a few weeks,” she said, “We can hit the same restaurant, at the same late time, for a few days, and see if he reappears. Settle this fantasy of yours once and for all so we can all move on.”

“Why a few weeks?” Lucio asked, “In a few weeks, I’m supposed to be done with the song, why not now?”

“Because I’m having to fill in as Sanjay’s secretary while his is on maternity leave, and it will be difficult to find a room once I’m done next week because of Christmas approaching and then New Years.” she answered. “A few weeks is an optimistic time frame.”

Lucio toyed nervously with a long lock of his hair. That wouldn’t work. A few weeks was far too long for the timeline that Vishkar wanted him to follow. No, if he wanted to find the man or find a way to move on, he would have to go soon.

“I can go,” he said, “Can you book a room for me? I can-”

“No. No no no,” she said, “What kind of manager would I be if I left you alone in New York of all places? Who knows what could happen to you? You could be mugged, killed, beaten, poisoned, kidnapped-”

“Satya, it’s New York. Not a gulag.” Lucio said, thinking quickly, “I’m entitled to a vacation. The doctors said I should take more time off and everything’s been so stressful lately. And I want to spend a week in New York. Exactly where we were before.”

“Lucio-” Satya pleaded, “Don’t.”

He had stuck his lip out, tilting his head down and looking up at her with his big brown eyes. He didn’t like pulling out the big gun that was his pouty face, it was embarrassing and he didn’t enjoy using it, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

“Don’t give me that look-”

He stuck his lip out further and whined.

Satya tried to avert her eyes. “Please-”

“I’ve been so tired lately,” he said softly, blinking innocently at her, “So tired. A break would be so very nice.”

Her head now rested in her hands, covering up her eyes, and she groaned. “I will book a room for you, but-” she raised her head and looked sternly into his eyes, “But! There will be conditions. Many conditions.”

Conditions he could handle. Everything he did had conditions and strings attached. He could navigate a condition-filled minefield with ease.

He tried to hide the smile coming to his lips, but failed miserably. With far too much enthusiasm considering his earlier plea, and a grin near splitting his face in two, he nodded excitedly, eager to do whatever she asked to be on his way.

He was more than ready to dive into a New York State of Mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos, comments, and feedback are always super appreciated!
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3
> 
> Questions, comments, or concerns? Hit me up on here or on my Twitter: https://twitter.com/KittenzCaboodle


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Chapter warnings  
> None
> 
> Happy reading! <3

Lucio sat in his hotel room in New York, scrolling on his phone.

His getting to New York was thankfully uneventful. The flight had been calm and Lucio never needed to worry about paparazzi thanks to the frog helmet he wore while performing. 

Still, there was always a small worry in the back of his mind that he would be recognized somehow. He didn’t know how they would know, but the thought was always there.

Thankfully, he still retained full rights to his privacy. It was nice being able to walk around and not have to worry about anyone knowing who he was.

It hadn’t been easy convincing Satya that he could handle a week-long vacation on his own. He hadn’t done much alone since he had joined the Vishkar Talent Academy Boarding School when he was a child and been raised in the school after his parents passed away.

The thought of his newfound freedom was as invigorating as it was daunting. He wanted to drink in every drop and waste no time.

So it was frustrating that he didn’t even know the name or address of the restaurant he needed to re-track down. He had been searching for a half hour now, stubbornly trying to remember or find the name on his own.

Who would have thought that New York would have so many restaurants?

Finally, wanting to move on, he bit the bullet and texted Satya his question.

_ -What was the name and address of the restaurant we went to before? _

He set his phone down on the table and leaned back as he waited. Right as he got comfortable, his phone buzzed with a reply.

**-Echo Lounge; Bar and Restaurant, 2220 Kings Row Ave.**

**-Wear a coat tonight. Weather will be low 30s tonight in NY.**

**-Is the room okay?**

Despite himself, he couldn’t help but smile at his phone. Even if she was on the other side of the country, she was still mothering him and making sure that he was taking care of himself. It was sweet. She didn’t need to care about him that much, she was his manager not his guardian, but she did. She was one of the only people that did.

_ -Room’s great! I’ve got my coat ready. Thank you. _

**-Don’t carry too much cash. But do keep some emergency cash on you. Don’t go anywhere with strangers. If the taxi driver seems suspicious, ask to get out and get a new one. Don’t flaunt yourself. Keep a low profile.**

**-Are you sure about going out on your own tonight?**

_ -I’ll be okay. I won’t do anything crazy. _

**-You’re not the one I’m worried about doing anything crazy.**

_ -I’ll be okay, Satya. I’ve got my phone and I’ll call/text you if I have any questions. I promise. I’ll stay safe. _

**-I trust you to. Text me tonight once you’re back in your room, like you agreed to.**

_ -I will. TTYL. _

**-TTYL?**

_ -Talk to you later. _

**-You had better. T.T.Y.L.**

Lucio put his phone back down and re-read her text. There were two of the limits he had given him. No going anywhere with strangers - like he would, psh, he wasn’t that dumb - and texting Satya every night and morning. All she wanted was a quick text sent her way, a hi or a hey or a good night / morning or whatever, so it wasn’t too bad of a restriction either.

He typed the address she had given him into his phone, pulling up a map. Considering how far it was, he understood why she had booked a ride. She had given him the name of some apps to help him do the same while he was here.

With a quick check of his watch - the fact it was already 8pm wasn’t much of a surprise considering his flight hadn’t landed until 5pm - he figured it was time to start moving and figuring out how to get downtown. He wouldn’t be doing it as fast as Satya could.

He opened up the  **_Scootr_ ** app and had to fumble through making an account, linking up his card, and booking a ride down to the  **Echo Lounge.**

At 9pm, after a quick freshening up session and a quick check that he had his $100 emergency money tucked into a pocket, he stepped outside and found his ride. At 9:30, he found himself standing outside very familiar doors.

This was it. This was the restaurant they had gone to that one fateful night that Lucio couldn’t get out of his mind.

He stepped inside and found that the restaurant was much more packed at this time of night. Every table in sight was occupied, the front room was crowded already, and the hostess informed him it was going to be at least another hour of waiting. He hadn’t made a reservation like Satya had.

And that was fine, he told her, he could wait as long as it took. He sat on a bench inside the front, one that, if he leaned over just right, he could see the stage. The entire time he was waiting, he had his eyes locked on the stage, fearing that if he even looked away for but a second, he would miss seeing  **_him_ ** _. _

In fact, his attention was so locked on the stage, that he nearly missed the name he had given to the hostess being called.

“Andes?” she called out. “Table for one for Andes?”

Oh! That was him! He had almost forgotten. Gosh, that would have been bad.

He bolted upright, handed in the number to the hostess, and she led him to a table. All the other tables were still occupied, and the front was still kinda full, despite it being almost 10:45. New York really was the city that never slept.

The waiters and waitresses ran around, working like a well-oiled machine, and he wasn’t seated long before a young waitress was by his table, one right near the stage, notepad at the ready.

“Hi! My name’s Tabby and I’ll be your waitress today!” she said with the energy of a cheerleader trying an energy drink for the first time. “What can I get you to drink?”

“I’d like some water and…” Just water was boring, he had been drinking water all day and he was sick of the non-taste. He glanced at the menu briefly, “what’cha got that’s non-alcoholic?”

He wasn’t going to touch a drop of alcohol tonight, on the off-chance he saw his singer. This time, he would know for sure if it was the alcohol or if he really had met a siren.

“We’ve got Pepsi products-”

“That’s not soda.” he really wasn’t supposed to touch soda, according to his dietician. Just because he was on “vacation” didn’t mean that he was going to let himself go.

“Lemonade. Sweet iced tea. Arnold Palmer. Roy Rogers- wait, that’s soda. Uhm. Unsweetened Iced tea?” she rattled off the list of drinks and nothing sounded appetizing, “Coffee. Tea. Kombucha. Seltzer water.”

“The bar got anything non-alcoholic?” he asked. He wanted the fruity flavors of a drink without the alcohol. Couldn’t get that, maybe he’d concede with an Arnold Palmer.

“Let me go ask the bartender real quick,” she said with a decisive point. In the blink of an eye, she had vanished from view, presumably to talk to the bartender. A moment later, she was back, reading off her notebook. “We got a Virgin Caesar, like a Bloody Mary, Virgin Moscow Mule, with lime juice, ginger beer, club soda, and ice, or a Virgin Mojito, with lime juice, simple, raspberry, or coconut syrup, mint leaves, sparkling water, and ice, a Virgin Sunset, with orange juice-”

“The Virgin Mojito sounds delicious. With the coconut. Thank you for asking for me,” he said, “Do you want my order now too?”

Her eyebrows raised and she brought her pen to the paper. “Are you ready to order?”

He nodded. “I’ve been here once before a few weeks ago, was so good I had to come back to New York and experience it all again.” he said with a grin, “Do you all still have The Jack Daniels chicken sandwich with a veggie medley and a fully dressed baked potato on the side?”

“Yes, sir, we do,” she said, her pen scratching against the paper. “Anything else?”

“No- uh, wait,” he paused and debated a moment, “A small waldorf salad to start with and a small order of fries with the meal, please.”

“Got it.” she tapped her pen on the paper, finishing her scribbles, and then tucked everything back into her apron, “I’ll go put this order in for you right now.”

She left. A few minutes later, she brought him a tall glass of water. He sipped at it as he waited patiently for his meal.

Considering how busy the establishment was right now, he knew there was going to be a wait. He could hear the bustle of the bar, with the patrons filling all the seats around it, and all the other tables were filled. His waitress had rushed by a few times, tending to at least ten other tables.

He didn’t mind waiting. All he was here to do was wait and pray to see if his mystery man would show his face again.

A drunk man eventually crossed the stage and began to belt out a bootleg version of  _ Mamma Mia _ , absolutely bastardizing the song, with the words slurred and half of them made up. At least he would have some entertainment while he waited.

As the man finished up his song, a male voice spoke from his left, “Excuse me?” it said, making Lucio turn his head.

He was greeted by the sight of a lifetime. His mystery man was standing right next to his table, brown eyes gleaming hazel as the stage lights reflected in them, his teeth so white they glowed. He had earrings too, oh my God, he had earrings.

“Were you the one with the Virgin Coconut Mojito?” he asked, holding the tall Collins glass from the bottom, a tray full of drinks in his other hand.

“M-” Lucio’s voice had left him. He hadn’t been ready to meet him, not like this. “Me… Mojito.” he said with a nod.

“Ah, good. I did have the right table,” he said, carefully setting the glass down, “I apologize for the wait. Front of house is getting slammed because of the Tree Lighting Ceremony today and I’m trying to run drinks out for them while I have a chance to breathe. If you want a refill, feel free to wave me over from the bar. I’m here for you.”

Somehow, despite how distracted Lucio was getting from his beautiful voice, he understood what was being said. “Thank.” he choked out, quickly correcting himself, “Thanks!”

With one last smile - and was that a wink? - he turned away and began serving other tables, but not before Lucio caught sight of his nametag. 

_ Jean-Baptiste _

That was the name of his singer. Jean-Baptiste. He spoke with a beautiful accent and he was even better looking close up. Jesus.

Now what was he supposed to do?

He had found his man. In his head, he had pictured seeing him up on stage, catching him before he left this time, talking and learning about him then, maybe even offering him the job right then and there.

But his voice was gone. The bravery he thought he possessed crumbled and suddenly it felt like anything he could think to say wouldn’t be good enough for him.

What the everloving heck was he supposed to do?

He couldn’t let him get away again, that much was for sure. Was he going to sing again? Was he allowed to when he was on the clock?

As he sat here debating what to do, his food was brought to the table. His mouth started watering the second the scent hit his nostrils. He hadn’t eaten much at all today and at this point, he was absolutely starving.

He did pace himself while he ate. Even if he was hungry, there was no point in making himself sick.

The food was just as delicious as he remembered, every bite an absolute delight made tastier with his mojito, but little did he know the best treat was yet to come.

It was a quarter to one when Jean-Baptiste bounded up the stage stairs and punched a number into the karaoke machine. A piano began playing and he stood in front of the microphone, waiting until it was his time to sing.

_ Dites-moi d'où il vient _

_ Enfin je saurai où je vais _

_ Maman dit que lorsqu'on cherche bien _

_ On finit toujours par trouver _

Be still, his heart. The man was singing in French now, which was unfairly beautiful, and it was official. He had the voice of an angel, and  _ uau _ , he was as pretty as one too.

His body rocked to the beat as the percussion instruments began to light up the song, his pants clinging too tightly to his skin.

_ Où t'es, papaoutai? _

_ Où t'es, papaoutai? _

_ Où t'es, papaoutai? _

_ Où t'es, où t'es où, papaoutai ? _

As he sang the chorus, the fluidity returned to his body and he danced loosely, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. His hips rocked and rolled and his arms flitted about, putting on a show.

As the chorus ended, he stood straight at the microphone, his singing and lack of movement highlighting the more serious tone from this part of the song. At times his voice seemed to grow angry, but then the chorus lightened up his tone as his body resumed dancing his heart out.

Then he sang with a quiet, hopeful desperation, grabbing the microphone off the stand and completely losing himself to the song, spinning and putting on a grand finale of a dance, the smile on his lips completely enrapturing.

Lucio had no idea what he was singing about, he didn’t speak French, but he could feel every emotion he was trying to convey in the story. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from him, worried that if he even blinked this would all turn out to be one of his many dreams of the man singing on stage.

Head on his hands, Lucio could have listened to him sing forever, but all too soon it was coming to an end.

Jean-Baptiste’s chest was heaving as the last few, lyric-less chords played, and then he slipped the microphone back into the holder. Then, without a moment’s hesitation, he was racing down the stairs and disappearing into the swinging kitchen doors. That’s how he had just disappeared before, immediately running into the back before he could hear any of the applause he deserved.

Lucio shot upright in his chair, glancing at the bar. The manager was running it. Did that mean Jean-Baptiste was now off the clock?

He was leaving. 

Lucio couldn’t lose him again.

Tabby was busing a table nearby; Lucio called her name, as politely as he could, and got her attention. He near shoved his hundred-dollar bill, his emergency money, into her hand, telling her to keep the change as her tip as he bolted out of his seat.

Satya would understand. This was an emergency.

Lucio was tugging on his coat as he stepped out of the doors, frantically looking up and down the street in hopes of catching sight of Jean-Baptiste.

Right as he was about to give up hope, he caught sight of the man walking onto the sidewalk, stepping out of the alley next to the restaurant. In his hands held two takeout containers and he was thumbing at his phone. He leaned against the building, popping on foot up on the wall as he waited for… something.

Standing awkwardly out front, trying not to look like he was staring, Lucio attempted to psych himself up. He could speak like a normal human person, and he  **_would_ ** speak to Jean-Baptiste like a normal human person, with proper English and everything. He would not fail.

Sucking in a deep breath, Lucio turned around and walked over towards the other man.

“Hey,” he said, getting Jean-Baptiste’s attention as he tried to act cool and collected.

The other man looked up, eyes skirting his way. The surprise on his face at being spoken to gave way to a smile that made it up to his eyes. “Hey!” he said, his friendliness catching Lucio entirely off-guard. “Hey, Virgin Mojito! Like your drink?”

The fact that the other man had given him a nickname caught him entirely off-guard. “Yes,” the word came out squeakier than he liked, “Was delicious.”

“Glad to hear,” the man said, looking back at his phone. “Like a good coconut drink myself. Throw some rum in there and that’s a good time.”

The man glanced up the street now. Was he waiting for someone? Shit, Lucio needed to act fast then, so he could say all that he needed to. If only the words were coming to him.

“You sing good,” finally left his mouth, which was decidedly not a normal human sentence. “Real good.”

“Oh, thank you,” Jean-Baptiste said, looking back Lucio’s way, “I appreciate hearing that someone actually li-”

“I heard you sing last month. It was so beautiful I had to come back and see if it was all just a dream,” the words tumbled out of his mouth. Which, while grammatically correct, it was also probably not a normal human sentence, “But it wasn’t. You really sing that amazingly and- and-”

He managed to shut his word faucet off before he finished his incoherent thought.

“- _ You’re gorgeous too.” _ is what he would have said. But even without saying it, he already felt his face growing bright red. His arms wrapped around himself protectively. This was not the way he had anticipated this going at all.

Every time he had run through all the scenarios, they had all been a yes, a smooth run, with no bumps to be had.

But now here he was, facing down what could very well be a no, and he wasn’t ready to face it at all.

“I’m flattered, I really am…” Jean-Baptise said, slipping his phone into his jacket's pocket, “Apologies if I seem awkward. I’ve never thought I would ever have a… a fan, for lack of a better word. It’s… I don’t know what to think.”

“You’re not angry, right?” Lucio had to ask. He didn’t know how someone was supposed to react to hearing what Lucio had just said.

“Not a bit, uh.” Jean-Baptiste rubbed at the back of his neck. “I keep calling you Mojito in my head, because Virgin is a cruel nickname, um, but I’m sure you have a name, right?”

“A name? Yeah, it’s Lu-” his lips froze as Satya’s warning came back to him.

**_Don’t flaunt yourself. Keep a low profile._ **

It probably wasn’t the best idea to just announce his first name, which doubled as his stage name, a bad idea in hindsight. Not if he wanted to keep a low profile.

“-Lu.” he said decidedly.

Jean-Baptiste’s brow quirked. “Lulu?” he asked with uncertainty.

“Just Lu.” he clarified.

“Well, Just Lu, you’ve certainly made my night a little bit brighter,” Jean-Baptiste teased, holding his hand out for a handshake, “Call me Jean. Or Baptiste. All my friends do.”

“Baptiste,” Lucio tested the name on his tongue and found he liked the way it rolled, unable to hold back the smile on his lips as he uttered it. He had tried to come up with what his mystery man could be called, testing name after name, but nothing fit in that slot as well as Jean-Baptiste. 

But now that he had a name and a face to go with his mystery man, he didn’t know what to say next. He had said his piece, said at least of part of what he meant to, and didn’t know how to continue. What could he say that was reasonable? He had to figure out something, because just standing here was going to get awkward fast.

“Hey, Bap-” a new voice said from behind him, “Who’s the short guy? Is he bothering you? Want me to kick his ass for you?”

Lucio turned around and was greeted by the sight of a smolderingly gorgeous Latina. Her eyeshadow was a smokey purple, her lips painted a bright purple, her hair was shaved up the sides, leaving her with a bold undercut that was highlighted by the ends of her dark hair being dyed purple. Someone clearly had a favorite color.

Her hands were stuffed into the pockets of her oversized, silky, varsity jacket, and her hot pinkish-purple hotpants-wearing legs were ready and waiting in a fighting stance. On her shoulder, a dark blue gym bag was slung, sitting lightly on her body.

“Please don’t.” Baptiste said, meeting her malice with friendliness, “He likes my singing.”

“Oh, so he’s a man of taste,” she said, shoulders relaxing, “Still tiny, though.”

Lucio bit his tongue, but even he knew that if she wasn’t wearing heeled booties, they would be about the same height. She  _ might  _ have had an inch on him, if she was lucky.

“Lu,” Baptiste said, getting his attention as he motioned towards the woman, “This here is ‘all my friends’, also known as Olivia. We’ve been friends for...”

“Since college.” Olivia helpfully supplied.

“Since college.” Baptiste finished.

“And somehow we’re still friends,” she teased, “Speaking of, friend, that’s my dinner you’re holding, yeah?”

“Indeed it is, one pesto chicken panini for you,” he said, holding out a box for her, “And a fried pork tenderloin sandwich for me.”

“Well, eat up, Bap, so we can get going,” she told him, opening up her own box.

“Okay, but first,” he looked at her curiously, “Why are you carrying my gym bag?”

“I got it from your apartment.”

“And why were you in my apartment exactly?”

“Because I had to get you an outfit for tonight,” she explained exasperatedly.

“I had clothes.” he sighed, “Your key is for emergencies only, Olivia.”

“I know what you’re wearing under your work clothes, and it won’t fly for the club,” she told him, “Clearly, it was an emergency. A  _ fashion  _ emergency.”

Baptiste glanced down at himself with a frown. Looking more closely, Lucio could make out a bright pop of color poking out from under his all-black get-up. What was he wearing under there?

"So, Lu," Olivia started, popping open her box and wrapping her hand around the large sandwich, "You free tonight?"

Lucio blinked owlishly, surprised by the question. Was he free? Considering his only plan had been to meet Baptiste, and he had that checked off, he guessed he was.

"Yeah." he told her.

She glanced Jean-Baptiste's way. "You mind if your groupie joins us tonight?" she asked him, "Akande would love to have another body on the floor at this time of night, I'm sure."

"I mean, I don't mind, not at all," Baptiste said, quickly swallowing the large bite of food he had taken, covering his mouth with his hand as he spoke.

Olivia gave Lucio a pointed look. “You’re over 21, right?” she asked, “You look like… 25? The beard and the babyface are making it hard to guess...”

"I'm 26," Lucio told her, rubbing at his beard. He didn’t know why he did. He knew that his facial hair was still there. Did he really have a babyface? “Just turned on the first of this month.”

"Niiiiiice! You like clubbing, Lu?" Olivia asked, dragging him back to the present. "You wanna come along tonight and give this old man some of your energy to make it through the night?"

A frown ticked onto Baptiste's lips. "I'm only 34." He moped.

"35 in February," Olivia reminded him.

"I stay up a late a lot-"

"Because you're working. I'm sure on nights you're not, you're in bed by 11."

"10:30," he reluctantly admitted, "because my work schedule is a mess-"

"And it stresses you out. I know. You told me." Olivia finished, "and that's why we're hitting the club tonight. So you can have some fun and relax… okay, Bap-Bap?"

He sighed, continuing to eat his dinner. It wasn't until Lucio assured Olivia that he did like clubbing and that he would love to come along that the frown left his face.

After Olivia and Jean-Baptiste ate, she hailed a cab for them. A large hand on Lucio's shoulders helped guide him into the car, and Baptiste slid into the seat next to him.

Their thighs were touching all during the ride, with Lucio's muscular arm pressed against Jean's larger one. The tight space made him all too aware of just how broad Baptiste's shoulders were. He was built so sturdy that Lucio could climb him like a tree. The thought set his face on fire.

After some time, they arrived at a building with a short line in front of it. The three of them clambered out of the car, and Lucio gazed up at the large neon sign on the front of the building.

**The Talon Nightclub,** it said and there was a massive bouncer out front who sent a small wave to Olivia and an exaggerated wink Baptiste's way, his long hair billowing down his shoulders.

"We're going in the back door, right?" Baptiste said, ignoring the gesture.

"Why? Don't want to talk to your ex, Mauga?" She teased, already leading them around the side of the building. "Don't worry, of course we are."

"We slept together  _ once _ . He’s not my ex. He’s an annoyance." Baptiste started to argue, but cut himself off. "Could have warned me he was working today."

"I didn't know." She shrugged. "The bouncers swap schedules all the time. How am I going to keep track of that from the backroom?"

Baptiste hummed in annoyance, but relaxed as they turned the corner. Olivia pulled a keycard out of her pocket and beeped them inside. 

Stepping through the door, Lucio found himself in an employee locker room. Before he could soak in all the  _ amazing _ details of the drab room, Olivia noisily dropped the bag on a chair.

"Go change," she ordered Baptiste, "Get out of those dirty work clothes and put on something you can dance in."

With only a hint of reluctance, Baptiste took the bag and stepped into the men’s restroom. After five minutes of Lucio and Olivia standing around, her excitedly hyping him up about the nightclub, Baptiste was back, his all black work clothes swapped out for a dark wash pair of jeans that clung to his backside, a pair of orange and white sneakers, and a dark jacket that rested on top of a white, tight, t-shirt, leaving nothing about his torso to the imagination.

"Why don't you dress like that more?" Olivia asked him, glancing up from her phone to see him stuff his old clothes back into the bag. "You look hot."  
  
“Are you saying I usually don’t?” he teased with a wink sent Lucio’s way. Was that wink really? Maybe his eye just twitched...

“No, Bap, but this is a different kind of hot.” Olivia tried to clarify, with a wave of her hand, “A cleaner look than your usual-”

"I prefer being comfortable," he said patiently, tugging at the collar of the tight shirt, "I don't know where you even found these clothes. I haven't dressed like this in forever."

That explained why the clothes fit so tightly. They were years old and managed to fit and be ridiculously skintight. Lucky. If Lucio wanted a shirt to sit like that on his frame, he had to shop in the kids section.

Olivia then picked the bag up and opened up a locker - presumably hers - and slipped the bag inside, motioning for Lucio’s coat. He handed it over, making sure to move his phone and wallet to his pants pockets, leaving him clad in a dark green short-sleeve hoodie, a pair of cedar green cargo pants, and black and white Converse.

"Come on," she said, leading them out of the staff area, "we're wasting the night away."

As they made their way down a long hall, the faint thumping music getting louder as they walked, Lucio nearly ran into another giant man that was turning the corner. Luckily his reactions were quick enough that he was able to move out of the way before he headbutted the suited man in his solar plexus.

“Sorry,” he apologized, looking up to be met with a sunglasses-covered stare. Who wore sunglasses indoors?

Not that Lucio would actually ask the question. This guy was massive, towering over even Baptiste, and could probably turn Lucio’s spine into his own personal accordion and play a hell of a tune with it, if his white suit was as tailored to his giant arms as Lucio thought it was.

“Watch where you’re going, Akande,” Sombra scolded him, grabbing the man’s attention away from both Lucio and the pile of papers in his massive mitts that he had been perusing while he walked.

He raised a brow at her, the hallway lights reflecting brightly off his bald, dark head.. “You were supposed to be off at 8, Colomar.” he said.

“I am. Bap and I are here to dance the night away,” she said, quickly remembering their other companion. “This is Lu. He’s with us. Lu, this is my boss, Akande. He’s the club’s owner.”

The man reached up and tilted his glasses down, finally letting Lucio see his eyes. “Charmed.” he said simply, extending the hand Lucio’s way.

Lucio reached out and met his hand, receiving a  _ very, very  _ firm and strong handshake in reply. Vishkar had attempted to talk him into doing movie cameos, with the helmet of course, but film had never been his thing. Despite that, he felt like he deserved an Oscar for keeping a smile on his lips despite how crushed his fingers were getting in the other man’s grip.

“Talon’s been a pet project of Akande’s for three years now,” Sombra informed Lucio, who thankfully just had his hand released from the deathtrap, “The last owner just about ran the club into bankruptcy and it was close to being gutted, but Akande bought it for a steal and has turned the place around.”

“Talon always had the potential to be something great, but the last owner wanted too much control, too many rules, and was only concerned with profit,” Akande added, “Humanity doesn’t want another place to be told what to do, they want freedom, to enjoy the chaos of the night. Conflict is what makes us strong, after all… That being said, cause no problems. Just because Talon allows freedom, does not mean we tolerate the scene being turned into disarray and others’ nights being ruined. We have security. And we will use it as we see fit.”

The man loomed over them, his eyes burning a sharp state into Lucio’s as his words grew tenser. Lucio felt a fat droplet of sweat rolling down his back, his nerves spiking and heart pounding. It felt like he was being interrogated. Was he being interrogated? Was he failing the test?

Behind him, Olivia laughed, wrapping her arms over his and Baptiste’s shoulders. “You’re preaching to the choir, Akande,” she told him. “We came to have fun and dance, not cause problems. Get on back to your paperwork, dude. I’ll email you tomorrow about the new lighting schematic and the new code I’m working on that’ll make syncing it up to the speakers a cinch, alright?”

Akande hummed unamusedly, but his tone was betrayed by the smallest of smiles ticking onto the right side of his mouth. “I’ll await it,” his eyes drifted to Baptiste, “Have you put any thought into my offer, Augustin?”

“I’m flattered, Ogundimu, for you to offer me another job here,” Baptiste said with a smile, “But I’m happy where I am. Bartending at a club just isn’t for me.”

“If you say so. Am I allowed to be insulted I gave you your start in bartending only for you to run off with those talents so soon?” Akande paused, and then laughed. “I only kid. You were searching for a purpose once you returned, and I only tried to give you one. There’s no harm in your desires not being here. However, the offer will remain open for you, should you wish to pursue it, Augustin.”

Baptiste nodded, “I will remember that, Ogundimu.” was all he said.

They stared at each other before Akande looked away, and resumed walking down the hall.

“Have fun, but not too much fun.  _ Die e je ma n’aja o siwin ku i, _ ” he called back to the trio, waving lazily over his shoulder, “Have a goodnight.”

Finally, they made their way to the dance floor. The club was dark with colorful, moving lights and a lit-up dance floor the only real sources of light in the room.

The room was hot, the numerous bodies bumping and grinding on the dance floor heating up the room in more ways than one. They hadn’t been in the room for even a minute before Baptiste was rolling up his jacket’s sleeves to his elbows.

Olivia grabbed both of their hands, pulling them to face her before they got too far out on the floor. “We should take a group picture,” she said with a toothy grin, having to shout to be heard over the music, “A before and after picture, you know? Us rolling up to the club, and then us after rolling through it. Who has their phone?”

“Left mine in my bag,” Baptiste hollered back, “So I didn’t break it this time.”

“I left mine in my locker,” Olivia frowned, glancing Lucio’s way. “You got one, friend?”

Lucio hesitated before he answered. Did he admit he had one? What could go wrong if he did?

He wanted a group picture, he decided. He wanted at least something to remember this night with, to remember Baptiste with. 

Reaching into his deep pocket, he pulled his phone out. “I got mine,” he said, signing in, turning on the camera, and then holding it out to her.

“Sweet!” she took it, holding it out, pulling Baptiste in close as she stepped in next to Lucio. Despite how she tried, though, she was having difficulty getting them all in the shot.

“Hey, Bap,” she held the phone up to him, “You got long arms. Take the pic.”

He took the phone from her and crouched down to fit in the frame with them. Holding it in selfie mode, he readied his thumb to snap the pic.

“Taking picture in three, two, o-” he snapped a photo before he finished counting, catching the shorter people off-guard. He looked good, of course, as he had been ready for it, but Lucio and Olivia hadn’t been ready, causing Olivia to playfully elbow him in the chest. “Okay, for real this time. Smile on three, two, one-”

This time, everyone was ready when he took the pictures, quickly snapping a few in hopes that one of them would be good enough. He then stood up and held the phone out, unsure whether to hand it to Olivia or Lucio.

Olivia snatched it, quickly scrolling through the pictures, thankfully stopping at the first, disaster shot. “Oh, these are great!” she said, looking over the pictures once more, “We look hot.”

She handed the phone back to Lucio, and Baptiste leaned in, “Anyone want a drink?” he whisper-screamed, trying not to be too loud while still being heard. “Could go for one myself. My treat.”

“I’ll take a Paloma,” Olivia said, pulling her keycard out and tossing it to him, “Use my discount. What you getting, Bap?”

“Probably a Mai Tai or a Pina Colada, I’ll know when I order,” he shrugged, “You want anything, Lu? Mojito?”

While a mojito sounded nice, he had already had one. “Don’t think any could top the mojito I had earlier,” he said, talking loudly to be heard over the bass, “Uh, I don’t know. What would you recommend?”

Baptiste smiled at his comment, despite trying to bite at his lip and stop himself. “You like sweet drinks?” he asked Lucio.

“Yeah?”

“Fruity or nah?”

Lucio thought a moment. “Fruity sounds good.”

“You like cocktails?”

“Usually.”

“With alcohol, right?”

“How else?”

Baptiste gave him a wink, “Okay, got it. I’ll hook you up, Lu.” he said, turning around and heading towards the crowded bar, “I’ll be right back.”

He wasn’t gone for two minutes before Olivia spoke to Lucio.

“Hey,” she called, “Can you text me the pictures we took?”

“Uh, sure, yeah,” Lucio turned on his phone and pulled up his messaging app, “What’s your number?”

“9...” Lucio punched in the number and looked up expectantly.

This time her lips moved but he couldn’t hear her over the music. “Say that again.” he said, she spoke again and he thought he heard it, “9?” he repeated.

She shook her head, “No.” her lips moved again and he couldn’t understand her. “I’m sorry. I can’t hear you-”

Olivia gazed out at the speakers that were forever booming, and spoke loudly, “Can I use-... phone and send-... to myself?”   


He may have missed words, but this time he got the gist. “Okay,” he said reluctantly, holding it out to her. 

“I’ll be just a second,” she said, taking the phone and immediately tapping on the screen.

While she typed, wandering in a tight circle as she texted herself, Lucio scanned the dancefloor. Usually when he went clubbing, he was on stage, playing in front of a crowd. It had been a while since he had performed at a club, though, as he had graduated to larger stages.

It was odd being on the floor, where there was barely enough room to move and too much noise to think. He was a nobody down here, the same as everyone else. A stranger that had no obligations but to have a good time.

For the first time in forever, he found himself liking the idea of being a nobody.

His phone was held out to him, snapping him back to reality.

“Thanks,” Olivia said as he took his phone back. “I left the thread so you can send me the after shots when we’re leaving too.”

“Okay,” he said as he tucked his phone away. A minute later Baptiste returned, carrying three drinks. He handed a light pink one to Olivia, and Lucio’s had a beautiful yellow to red gradient throughout the drink. Baptiste had gotten himself an unnaturally blue drink that, while pretty, was kinda concerning. It looked very fake.

Olivia took the drink without a word, tucking the returned keycard back into her pocket, and began sipping at it as she began slowly moving to the beat.

Lucio looked over his drink. “What did you get me?” he asked.

“Try it first, before I tell you the name.” Baptiste said, his large hand wrapped around his frosty glass.

Lucio looked curiously at him. “Why?”

“Because it’s an odd name for a drink and I want you to try it first,” Baptiste said, “Do you trust me?”

Did Lucio trust him? Well, Baptiste hadn’t let him down yet in the hour or so he had known him. 

Instead of verbally answering the question, Lucio tilted his head and took a long sip of the drink.

There was barely any alcohol it seemed, and he would have wondered if it was another virgin drink save for the taste of booze that slipped in at the end. It was sweet and tart, with a taste of cranberry, orange, and more. Whatever it was, it was delicious.

Baptiste was watching him intently, a smile ticking onto his lips as he saw Lucio happily took another sip.

Swallowing his mouthful, Lucio gazed up at him. “Okay, this is delicious.” he said.

Baptiste’s eyes lit up excitedly. “I nailed it?”

“You nailed it.” Lucio affirmed, “So what is it?”

“Sex on the Beach.” the answer surprised Lucio.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Sex on the Beach,” Baptiste repeated, “And go slow. Even though you can’t taste it much, there’s a dose or two of vodka and some schnapps in there.”

“Huh.” Lucio hummed. He couldn’t really taste the vodka, so that was good to know. “What did you get?”

Baptiste glanced at his still-untouched drink. “A Blue Hawaiian. Rum, pineapple, coconut. Like a Pina Colada more or less, just blue.” he shrugged and reluctantly admitted. “...I wanted a pretty drink too.”

The conversation then died down, and Baptiste eventually ended up giving in to the music, slowly starting to rock along to the beat. Olivia was out on the dance floor, Lucio just caught sight of her bright outfit, and she was grinding against a beautiful blonde lady.

“You dance?” Baptiste asked after a few minutes, foot tapping to the thumping beat.

“Uh, yeah, sometimes,” Lucio replied, growing nervous. Could he still dance? What if he had a breakdown here too? That… that would ruin everything.

Maybe he played it cool tonight and didn’t even try. Maybe that would be safest.

“Is tonight one of those sometimes?” Baptiste asked, his hips rolling unfairly as he took a step closer.

“It… could be.” Lucio was starting to panic and the thought that he shouldn’t be here was starting to repeat in his head, like a siren growing louder every time it looped.

“Well,” Baptiste looked him over, his bold smile growing softer as his eyes lingered, “Let me know if it is.”

And then he left Lucio alone. He stayed near him, dancing to the music, but didn’t ask him any questions. Watching Baptiste sway to the rhythm as he sipped at his drink, Lucio couldn’t help feeling like this had all been a test and he was doing nothing but failing.

Baptiste stood out, his dancing different than others on the floor, and it took Lucio a minute of staring to figure out why. Others were dancing in the crowd, bumping, grinding, and flailing to the beat. Even though Olivia had a handle on the rhythm, his movements flirting and commanding, her footwork impeccable, and her dancing was as great as any back-up dancers, it was… 

Mainstream. It was akin to what everyone else in the club was doing, though well above average. Still it was the way everyone danced in a place like this.

Everyone except Baptiste. The man was a living example of the phrase “dancing to the beat of your own drum.”

And, lips wrapped around the rim of his glass as he sucked down more of his drink, he couldn’t help but smile as a thought hit him. Baptiste had the moves of a father who was clubbing for the first time in years, his dancing confident and unique, at times almost dorky, uncaring of what anyone else thought, just like the first time Lucio had laid eyes on him. His smile was bright and it was clear he was having so much fun.

A pang of jealousy hit as he watched Baptiste dance, sipping at his drink as he danced. He wished he could dance like that, without a care in the world.

But as a song that he recognized began to play, one of his old favorites he had listened to for inspiration,  _ Club Can’t Handle Me, _ a thought hit him: 

He was a nobody right now. There was no one watching him. The world wouldn’t care what he did. Tonight was his to claim.

Testingly, he slid to the right, trying to find his own sense of rhythm. Then the left. He shuffled his feet and was thrilled to find no nerves making their way up his body.

He felt free.

He was going to dance, he was going to, and nothing was going to stop him.

He made his way over to Baptiste as he danced, closing the gap between them. As he approached him he realized that the man’s eyes were shut tight, something that gave Lucio pause.

Why was he dancing with his eyes closed?

Baptiste slid his way, something Lucio wasn’t ready for, and the two of them collided. Baptiste’s eyes snapped open and his arm wrapped around Lucio’s back, catching him before he hit the floor, the two of them doing an inadvertent spin and dip. Somehow, despite the collision, both of them had kept their drinks from spilling.

“My apologies,” Baptiste said, still holding Lucio in a dip, “I-”

Lucio cut him off. “It was my fault. I didn’t realize your eyes were closed-”

“I didn’t hear you-”

“I walk quietly and it’s loud in here.”

“I didn't hurt you, did-?”

“You didn’t.” Lucio said quickly. “I’m fine.”

Lucio had to keep assuring Baptiste he was fine before the other man finally helped him stand upright and let him go.

“I’m sorry,” Baptiste continued to apologize unnecessarily.

“It’s fine,” Lucio said yet again, “But, uh, why were your eyes closed?”

Blood rushed to Baptiste’s face and his eyes widened at the question. A sheepish smile made its way onto his lips. “I like to block out the world,” he admitted. “Pretend that there’s no one else around. It helps me relax and... be myself.”

“Oh.” Lucio’s eyes dipped south as he realized Baptiste didn’t like an audience while he danced. “Want me to leave?”

Jean had come here to relax, Olivia had said so, so he didn't want to take that away from him. The night was Baptiste's, Lucio was just intruding on it.

“What? No. No no.” Baptiste said quickly, trying to explain himself, “Everyone’s in their own world, in a way, and I just…am particular about the people I let into mine, and I haven’t met anyone I want in it for so long, but you… You’re allowed. I want you here.... Please stay.”

_ Please stay _ .

The words echoed in Lucio’s head and he looked up at Baptiste’s earnest gaze. He didn’t know what to say, but somehow he found the words.

“I think,” he began, “tonight has turned into one of those sometimes I want to dance.”

Baptiste understood. He was going to stay. No more words were needed now. And, carefully, eyes open this time, the two of them began to dance together.

It was awkward at first, the two of them trying to find their rhythms with each other. Neither of them synced up right, and it was messy at times. Baptiste took the lead, setting the pace, and Lucio followed right along with him.

Hands held their drinks tightly as the two of them played with their footwork, sometimes Lucio surprising him by slipping in a new move, with Baptiste needing less than a second to catch up and play along.

Their glasses were drained, and the second round of drinks disappeared faster, and they were nursing the end of their third when moves grew bolder.

A hand slipped down Lucio’s back, resting on his hip, and he was pulled closer. Baptiste arched his back, chest almost rolling against Lucio’s. Lucio found himself arching into the touch, their bodies ending up nearly flush.

Baptiste’s hand wrapped around his back, closing the small gap between them, and holding Lucio tightly against him as they continued to rock to the beat.

Lucio looked up, happy, drunk, smile on his face, entirely at ease as Baptiste began to lean down towards him.

At least, he was at ease until the next song’s chords opening registered in his brain. 

That was his song. 

**_Breakdown._ **

And, as the song began to play and the panic began to set in - oh God- it felt like he was about to have one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Die e je ma n’aja o siwin ku i (Yoruba saying)  
> Translation: One eats a little of a dog that died as a result of rabies.  
> Meaning: One should not over do things. There should be some restraint.  
> \---
> 
> Kudos, comments, and feedback are always super appreciated!
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3
> 
> Questions, comments, or concerns? Hit me up on here or on my Twitter: https://twitter.com/KittenzCaboodle


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Chapter warnings:  
> None

_Breakdown_ had been a team effort between Vishkar and Lucio. Lucio had a well-written recipe of a song, and Vishkar insisted on adding more salt, more sugar, more water, and turning his perfectly cooked melody into a soupy mess.

It was supposed to have been his hit, another one of his “children” that he adored, but it had become someone else as it exited Vishkar doors. It was a tune he didn’t recognize any longer, and it was now accompanied by a dance he hadn’t asked for, both of these strangers being things he had to execute in perfection every time it was asked, like a jack in the box.

Months of unseen practice, late nights spent learning and relearning every step and every note, hours of sweating his ass off, and countless days of doing it over and over again time after time; all of his efforts could be made pointless if he didn’t shine when the spotlight came his way.

He never knew when his lever was being cranked, when their eyes were on him, and it always felt like he only had a split second to act whenever his cue arrived, to pop out and perform to their high-standards, lest his box be dubbed flawed and cast aside for someone new.

Somewhere down the pipeline, _Breakdown_ had become a theme for the circus of his life, another tune in which he was required to put on a show for all the eyes around him to see time and time again.

_Breakdown_ was no longer his song. It had never been his song. 

Which is why it was so unfair that his chest was growing tight and his heart was beating so fast as the music played. His eyes widened as the panic began to set in.

Baptiste took notice that something was wrong and his head dipped to the side, his lips brushing against Lucio’s ear.

“Everything alright?” he asked, his voice unfairly husky.

Lucio couldn’t respond. His voice was caught and succumbing as his throat grew tighter and tighter. Could Baptiste feel his racing heart as they were pressed chest to chest? How did he explain anything when he didn’t even understand what was wrong himself?

Baptiste’s sturdy arm around his back began to feel constricting, the whole room did, especially with the bass of his new nightmare beating into his brain, and he shoved the other man back in a weak effort to get free.

Jean-Baptiste’s arm instantly slackened and Lucio pushed himself away, almost stumbling facefirst onto the dancefloor, saved only by his sense of balance returning at the last second.

A hand flew to his temple. He wanted to run, he wanted to hide, but his feet were stuck to the floor. Where would he even go? The song echoed throughout the club; there was no escaping it.

For the next three minutes and forty-seven seconds, the song would play. And there was no stopping it.

He turned around and was met with Baptiste’s concerned stare. His eyes shouldn’t be that sad. Why were they?

“I’m sorry-” he began to say, giving Lucio pause. Did he think this was his fault? No. No, he couldn’t- it wasn’t.

“The song-” he tried to explain over the booming bass, “The dance-”

How could he explain something that didn’t even make sense to him? Words weren’t working and his head and heart were pounding too much to think.

“The song?” Baptiste replied, pausing, his face brightening up with a smile. “Oh! Yeah, it’s a great song. We can dance to it. You know the dance?”

Oh, he knew the dance. Far too well.

He didn’t respond, though. Couldn’t find it in himself to. That didn’t stop Baptiste from giving him a smile.

“I’ll show you it,” he said, bouncing on his toes as the beat neared its drop, “It’s fun.”

Fun, he said. Fun indeed.

As the song reached its peak, Baptiste began to dance. His timing was flawless, his movements fluid, and he had the rhythm down perfectly. Even without skates on, as Lucio wore in every performance, he glided effortlessly on the floor.

Lucio averted his eyes but found that most people in the club were attempting the dance. Some were drunk and clumsy, some were freestyling and embellishing, and some lazily doing the steps, joking with friends nearby.

As he looked around the club and found most everyone moving in the ways he couldn’t, flashes of the New York failure kept popping into his head.

The panic of trying not to pass out.The helplessness as he failed.

The worry on Satya’s face as he let her down.

The fear in the ER as people ran about, leaving him unsure if he was dying or not.

The anger in the Vishkar representative’s voice as they lectured him, finally being removed by the hospital staff as his heart began to race.

The disappointment in the world’s eyes as their idol failed.

The punishments Vishkar had doled out since, pushing him harder than before, his few freedoms growing more limited by the day.

And the reminder that he was a failure and a fraud, only fooling the world into thinking he was someone he’s not, and that he could easily be replaced.

He tried to dance along with Baptiste, but his feet felt rooted to the floor, just picking them up a feat in itself, and his arms were made of lead, their motions stiff, heavy, and clunky.

He would try a move, fail, and then watch Baptiste, trying to join him in the dance at another part. Then he would fail and try again and fail and try again until he gave up.

His heart sunk faster as he watched Baptiste flawlessly mimic the dance, the sweat-soaked shirt clinging to his skin and hiding nothing from his eyes. He could see his abs as the shirt slid up, admired the way it stuck to his pecs.

It should have been Jean. Baptiste was made to be a star, with the voice of an angel, the rhythm of a pro, and the looks of a god.

Why did he even try when there were people like Baptiste who had it all already? What was even the point of struggling just to fail again and again?

Near the end of the song, Baptiste realized that Lucio wasn’t dancing along with him anymore.

“Do you not know the dance?” he asked curiously. “I thought you were saying that you wanted to-”

Lucio found himself blinking back tears, teeth clamped down on his bottom lip as he strained to find his voice. “I-” he couldn’t believe the words that were about to leave his mouth.“....I can’t do it.”

He immediately regretted what he said, his shoulders hunching as he readied himself for the inevitable disappointment heading his way. 

“Hey, don’t sweat it, Lu! There’s nothing to frown about,” Baptiste said, his warm hand clapped down on Lucio’s shoulder, rubbing reassuringly. “It’s not the easiest dance to learn, but if you want, I can teach you how to do it later?”

Lucio visualized how smoothly Baptiste had been dancing, how effortless his swagger was and, despite himself, a smile slowly ticked onto his lips.

“Yeah,” he said slowly, looking up into Baptiste’s warm eyes, “I’d love that.”

Baptiste returned the smile, his hand slowly moving down Lucio’s body, coming to rest on his upper arm. His fingers twitched, digging into the muscle there before Baptiste remembered himself and pulled his hand away, leaving Lucio longing for the stolen warmth.

“Uh, do-” Baptiste looked away momentarily, eyes gazing around the room, “Want another drink or have you reached your limit? I could go for one more myself.”

He thought for a moment. “Yeah, I could go another round too,” his hand reached into his pants pocket and he pulled out his last bit of cash he had on him, a twenty-dollar bill, and moved it towards Baptiste, “I’ll pay for this one. Pay you back for the others later?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Baptiste said, only accepting the money when Lucio shoved it directly into his hand, “Tonight’s my treat. A treat for both of us, really.”

He was gone only briefly this time, the crowd was thinning out as the night grew late, and returned shortly, their usual drinks in hand. “Here you go. One last round of Sex on the Beach for you. One last Blue Hawaiin for me.”

With a quick thanks, Lucio began drinking, his eyes shutting tight as he let himself enjoy his last drink for the night. He indulged in a long sip swallowing with a contented sigh.

When he opened his eyes, he found Baptiste staring at him, untouched drink in hand. As Jean realized that Lucio was looking his way, though, he blinked quickly and jerked his head away, an embarrassed frown on his lips.

“You’re not drinking,” Lucio said, his voice echoing in his glass as he leaned in for another sip.

“I was wondering if you wanted to try it? See if you liked it?” Baptiste offered, holding the glass out to him. “Without that added backwash flavor.”

Lucio eyed it, glancing between Baptiste and his drink. Was he supposed to? Baptiste wouldn’t have offered if he didn’t want Lucio too? Why would he have even offered?

Baptiste was looking at him so expectantly, Lucio didn’t know what to say. So he guessed.

“Sure?” he said, his statement turning out to be a question.

Baptiste stepped forward, holding the glass for him to drink from. Looking up at him for affirmation, Lucio tentatively leaned towards the cup. Baptiste’s free hand lightly cupped his jaw, coaxing him forward and then he brought the cup to Lucio’s lips, tilting it slowly, his hand encouraging Lucio to tilt his head back as the liquid poured down his throat.

He didn’t get much to drink, Baptiste was only giving him a taste of what he could have, but if he was honest, his head was swimming so much even just that sip was overwhelming. The acidic pineapple mingled with the mild coconut, but the rum was suckerpunching the back of his throat.

His hand was so soft. He was strong enough to manhandle him however he wanted, his muscles strong and his hands sturdy, but all he did was rub a thumb on the underside of Lucio’s jaw, humming in a pleased tone that was music to his ears.

All too soon, the glass was pulled away and the hand fell, leaving Lucio momentarily struggling to stand on his own. His balance thankfully returned, and the pounding in his ears soon gave way to the pounding music all around them.

Baptiste’s lips moved but Lucio didn’t catch what he said. 

“What?” he asked, his voice unfortunately cracking.

“How do you like the Blue Hawaiian?” Baptiste asked again.

“Oh, uh, it was-... it was good,” Lucio managed to spit the words out somehow, “But I like my drink better.”

“Who doesn’t like a good round of Sex on the Beach?” Baptiste asked with a smile and Lucio’s ears began to burn. His voice vanished once more, so he busied himself with sipping at his drink.

A moment later, Olivia appeared out of thin air, surprising both Lucio and Baptiste as she threw her arm over the latter’s shoulders.

“You boys ready to go soon?” she said, a nearly empty glass in her hand, “Club’s gonna close in forty, but we can beat the crowd if we go soon.”

“Right-” Baptiste tipped his drink back and took a long chug, swallowing a large mouthful before he continued, “- Okay.”

Taking his cue from Jean, Lucio followed suit and began to drain his own glass as quick as he could. Guzzling the booze was making it hit differently, or else all the alcohol in his system was deciding to have a group conference in his gut and brain.

The room was swimmingly hot and found he grew far too dizzy when he drank with his eyes shut. Running out of breath, he lowered the two-thirds finished glass and took a quick break.

“Glad to see you come up for air,” Baptiste teased, his glass only nearly half-gone. “God, you must have done so many keg stands in college. I’m jealous.”

Lucio, confused of what he was talking about, didn’t reply with anything but an unsure laugh, and then chugged the rest of his drink, feeling nice and floaty as he finished. He swallowed back a chuckle that was slipping free, reining it back in.

By now, both Olivia’s and Lucio’s glasses were empty, with Jean looking at the two of them in amazement as he took another sip of his drink.

“How?” was all he asked.

“Hurry it up, you nananananana _Bap-man_ ,” Olivia said, complete with jazz hands, as she drunkenly giggled, “You drink like a small, itty-bitty, teeny-weeny tiny baby bird.

“I could just throw it away-” he said, with Olivia and Lucio both shooting that idea down. Olivia was the one that started it, Lucio just kinda ended up following along with her because why not?

“Split it with me?” he asked the two of them. Olivia shook her head and kept ribbing him about how he drinks slower than an old woman crossing the street, but Lucio conceded to helping him.

He offered his empty glass, allowing Baptiste to pour some of his drink out in a 60-40 split, Baptiste getting less.

Their powers combined, they finished the drinks quickly enough that they could begin heading out before the rest of the patrons were getting kicked out en masse.

Olivia led them out the back - Lucio blindly following the duo - making a brief stop by her locker to grab their things, and, before Lucio knew what was going on, the three of them were standing out in the freezing New York night.

Before Lucio could say anything - if he was even capable of making his tongue form any words - Olivia tugged Baptiste towards her, whispering something to him. She pointed Lucio’s way briefly, and her hand motions looked like she was trying to pump Baptiste up like his own personal pep squad.

Lucio, mind wandering elsewhere, looked towards the road where even at this late time of day, cars were still hustling and bustling by. The bright neon lights of the New York night were blurry, Lucio becoming aware of how bleary his vision had grown now that he was outside of the barely-lit nightclub. 

“I guess this where we say goodnight,” Baptiste reluctantly said, hand rubbing at the back of his neck as he regained Lucio’s attention, their eyes meeting once more.

“Mmm hmm,” was all Lucio could reply with. He had lost track of how much he had had to drink, but man oh man, was he feeling it now. It felt both good and absolutely terrible at the same time. He wished it felt good more than it didn’t.

“I had a wonderful night,” Baptiste was saying, glancing Olivia’s way for encouragement, “It was great getting to meet you, Lu-”

“Mmm hmm.” he said again.

“And-” Baptiste, hearing his reply, looked at him more closely. “I was wondering if you would want to-”

Lucio laughed, unable to hold it back this time, a feeling of uncontrollable giddiness taking hold. His shoulders shook and he nearly toppled over, hand grabbing onto Baptiste’s thick arm for support. He immediately let go and tried to regain his balance, he did try, but found himself wondering how Baptiste was getting taller and farther away at the same time.

\---

Jean-Baptiste didn’t mind Lu grabbing onto his arm, but he minded the man falling backwards and potentially cracking his head open on the sidewalk.

With reactions he didn’t even know he had, Baptiste snatched the front of Lu’s shirt, keeping him from biting the dust, and then stopped talking, eyes widening with realization.

“Oh.” he said disappointedly, quickly pulling Lu upright with just one arm. He wasn’t a heavy man. “Oh no.”

“Oh no?” he heard Olivia say. “You caught him.”

“He’s completely intoxicated. The alcohol is hitting him and hitting him hard,” Baptiste said, free hand fishing through the gym bag on his shoulder,“I should have gotten us some water between rounds.”

“How much did he have?” Olivia asked, starting to sober up.

“Four and a third drinks.”

“Whew,” Olivia said, “And he’s so tiny. Must be all booze running through his bloodstream.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Baptiste pulled a keyring out of his bag and slipped a hand under Lu’s chin. His fingers pressed against Lu’s neck and, God help the boy, he couldn’t help but lean into his touch.

“His pulse is normal. Breathing’s slow, but not terrible and not irregular. Balance is gone,” His hand then grasped the underside of Lu’s chin, carefully tilting his head back and forth. “His eyes are looking at me, but not focused. Skin’s cool, but that could be the night air. Looks like it’s a normal color, not pale or blue-tinged. His lack of response is concerning-”

“He’s melting into your touch, Jean. Look at him; he’s too happy to say anything. He doesn’t care.” Olivia observed, “That’s cute-”

“Loose muscle tone. He was staggering earlier.” Baptiste lifted up his keyring, flicking on a mini-flashlight and shining it in Lu’s eyes. It took half a minute before he shut his eyes and blocked the bright light out. Baptiste clicked the light off, “Eyes are glossy. Reaction time is slower. Patient is sweaty, but was dancing in a hot club. Not vomiting yet. Still conscious. Inhibitions are low-”

“So what’s the diagnosis, Doctor Dreamboat?” Olivia asked, watching as Baptiste put his keys away 

“He’s drunk. No alcohol poisoning symptoms, not yet, but he’s unable to consent,” Baptiste said slowly, “Sorry your motivational speech about being a flamingo-for-it and not in a flamissed-opportunity in the lakes of life went to waste.”

“Haha," Olivia laughed, a bit tipsy herself, "I tried-”

“Granted, it didn’t make sense, but it had energy.” Baptiste continued. “Toucans and Toucan’ts were right there, but drunk Olivia just drove on by it for her precious flamingoes.”

“Flamingoes are better-” she started to say but cut herself off, “What are we doing with Lu?”

“Um…” Baptiste bit his lip and grasped both of Lu’s shoulders in his hands, “Hey, Lu. Where are we?”

“Uh-” The man’s brows lowered, his face a look of pure concentration as if he was playing the last round of Jeopardy in a nail-biter of a round.

“What state are we in?” Baptiste asked, seeing if a more specific question helped him out. And, in a way, it did.

“Calafern-” he stopped, blinking up at Baptiste’s face with his big, brown eyes. “N’York.”

“Slurred speech.” Baptiste noted, “Delayed thinking, but the answer came to him when he saw me.”

“Guess they don’t have anyone as good looking as you in California.” Olivia teased.

“He said he came back to New York to see me.” Baptiste explained. “He heard me sing at the Echo before and he had to come back and see if I existed.”

A catlike smile split Olivia’s face in two. “Oooooh, he’s got it baaaaad for _yoooouuu_.”

“Well, what he needs is to go to bed and sober up.” Baptiste said, “Where are you staying, Lu? Are you in a hotel somewhere? A friend’s?”

He stared at Jean blankly before he understood the question. “Hurizun.”

“Hur-zone?” Baptiste repeated, looking to Olivia for help.

She somehow knew what he meant, “I think he’s saying the Horizon Suites over on Lunar Lane,” she said, “I met a freelance client in their restaurant last month. That place is nice, but it’s not close. I’d say an hour away, given the traffic, assuming you get a cab and aren't hoofing it with this dead weight on your back.”

“An hour away?” Jean said, glancing down at Lu, whose face was now pressing against his chest.

“Mmm, yeah. It’s not _too_ far from the Echo, but it’s opposite the way we went to Talon,” she said, “But your apartment’s only fifteen...”

“Olivia, I don’t-” Baptiste swallowed, “But he’s drunk and I can’t ask him-”

“You’re right. Silly me. Obviously, he’s too drunk to come with us,” she said, “Let’s just let him wander around New York alone tonight. What could possibly happen to a boy as pretty and vulnerable as him?”

“That’s not what at all-” he huffed, “I guess I’m going to get a cab over to his hotel and see if the front desk can tell me which-”

“That’s gonna be like a hundred bucks per way. Oh! And don’t forget the extra late-night fees.” Olivia added, “Plus getting to bed in two hours plus winding-down time gives you a five am bedtime. Delightful. Have fun!”

Baptiste grimaced. Five am? And two hundred bucks in cab fees? The two of them crashing at his place was sounding better and better by the second.

“Hey, Lu?” he said, “You want to spend the night at my place? Would that be okay?”

Lu wasn’t in any state to actually consent to anything, but Baptiste’s options were limited at the moment. At the very least, getting some positive assurance from the man would make him feel much better about things.

“Yr hndsm,” Lu’s reply was muffled due to the fact his face was currently smooshed against Baptiste’s pecs.

“Say again?” Baptiste prompted, carefully leaning Lu’s head back so that he could hear him.

“Ya’r so handsome,” is what he said, “ _Homem muito bonito_... I wanna… Could lick ya’r face i’s so sweet-lookin’… an’ ya’ smell good. How’r ya’ so good facely an’ singly an’ dancing an’ muscully? Ya’r arms are so big...bet they’r good fer huggin’.”

“They’re very good for hugging,” Olivia assured the smaller man, speaking for a very red-faced Baptiste. “He really wants to go home and get you both to sleep. Can he?”

Lu’s bleary gaze locked onto Baptiste’s face and a smile that was far too bright and content broke out on his face. “Yeah. ‘M tired.” he said, “Please?”

“There’s your answer, loverboy,” Olivia said, patting Baptiste on the back, “I’ll get us a cab so you don’t have to haul his ass all the way home.”

As Olivia stepped towards the street to wave down a cab, Baptiste looked over at her. “This is okay, right?” he said, “This is the right thing to do.”

“It’s the right thing to do. There’s no place safer in this god-forsaken city than you’re muscular and oh-so-huggable arms.” she assured him. “Baptiste, you’ll take good care of him. The Jean I know is one of the most responsible, selfless people in the whole damn world. That’s why you spent the night entertaining a stranger and you’re taking him home to take care of him-”

She stopped talking as a cab pulled up. She opened up the door and waited as Baptiste helped guide Lu into the car.

“That’s where you’re wrong-” Jean whispered to her as he walked by, “You don’t know as much as you think you do, Colomar, and your reassurances mean nothing when no matter what I do, no matter if I get my way or not, I still feel like a sinner in a church.”

Her jaw clamped shut as she climbed in behind the two of them, giving the driver Baptiste’s address. The ride was awkwardly silent, and it didn’t help that Olivia had the same stop, living just down the road from Jean.

After she paid the driver, and the cab left them behind, she finally spoke.

“I do know everything, Jean, I just don’t announce it,” she said, standing on the sidewalk as Baptiste helped Lucio up the stairs to his apartment. “And I know that you feel like you don’t deserve that ray of sunshine, but you gotta push those clouds away at some point, man. Why not now?”

“Goodnight, Olivia,” Baptiste said as he fumbled with his keys, having to rebalance Lu so that he could use his dominant hand to unlock the door.

“I’d tell you to take care of him, Augustin, but I know you will. There isn’t a better person I can think of to be in your place,” she said, watching him finally get the door open. “Goodnight, Jean. Good luck with tomorrow’s hangover.”

And with that parting piece, she walked away, heading to her apartment just up the road.

Baptiste only gave her a parting glance, more to check the roads around her and make sure no trouble was heading her way, before he let the door shut behind him.

He lived on the fourth floor of the building. The elevator had been broken for a month now. The two of them would have to take the stairs.

However, he wasn’t going to guide a drunk man up four flights of stairs, not when said man was easy enough to _carry up_ the stairs. He heaved Lu up into his arms, making sure that he had a good grip before he began walking.

Getting into his apartment was a struggle, having to rebalance everything to use his room’s key, but he managed. It helped that Lu had wrapped his arms around Baptiste's shoulders, keeping his own grip on the man as he buried his face into his neck.

He was greeted by the usual sight of his apartment. Not too messy, not too neat, but small enough that even neat could look messy. The door opened up to the main living space, with a small living room / dining room / tv room / exercise space / entertainment space / sitting room combo that bled into the small kitchen area. 

There, in the kitchen, was one counter that doubled as his eating area, a fridge, a stove and oven - selling points for the apartment - and a microwave were squeezed into the space, with a few cabinets shoved as efficiently as possible into the area.

The hall past the kitchen led to the small bedroom he slept in most nights, on nights that he didn’t pass out on the couch in the living room instead. There was an in-wall closet that only slid open half-way and a dresser he had bought from Lindholm, a ready-to-assemble furniture store, and spent three days trying to build it with the Swedish instructions making no sense. The bottom drawer didn’t close right, despite how he had struggled.

The only bathroom was connected to the bedroom, and while it was also cramped, it was most of everything he needed, with a toilet, sink, shower, and a small amount of storage. He was an easy-to-please kind of man. The only real issue he had with it was the showerhead only came up to his neck, so he always had to assume a sumo squat when he washed his hair, but that was a small price to pay for how affordable the place was.

He kicked the front door shut behind him and stood in the room for a moment, debating where to set Lu up for the night. It was but a brief debate; guests got the bed, unless it was a visiting Olivia that had already begun snoozing on the couch.

He went to the bedroom and pulled back the blanket and sheets with one arm, and then attempted to drop Lu off on the mattress.

The man had a tight grip on Baptiste’s shoulders, so Jean ended up having to almost climb into the bed with him, leaning forward far enough that he could lay Lu down on the bed and pry his arms off.

Despite how short and small Lu looked, he was all muscle, and his grip only grew tighter when he felt Jean trying to get him off. One arm had wrapped around the back of Baptiste’s neck and it took quite a bit of finagling for Jean to finally duck out of his grip and get free.

“Quite the fighter, I see,” Baptiste murmured as he rubbed the back of his sore neck. “Stubborn too. Did not expect that out of you, Mojito.”

Once he was free, Baptiste quickly finished setting Lu up for the night. Originally, he had planned to leave his clothes untouched, but the strings of the hoodie, and the hood, triggered an alarm bell in his brain.

Now, his friend Lu was not a child, but he was drunk, it wasn’t too far off. Those were still choking hazards in his book, especially if he fidgeted and got himself tangled up while he slept.

It was terrifyingly easy to coax Lu into sitting up, raising his arms and tugging his oversize shirt off, leaving his torso only clad in a black undertank. Jean tried to ignore the way he smiled at him, looking far too happy to let the other man take his shirt. He failed at ignoring it.

Then he lay him back down, adjusting the pillows and making sure he was in a safe side position if he ended up vomiting. He didn’t want him to choke on it.

Before he deemed the room ready for its occupant, Baptiste pulled his small trash can out of the corner, setting it near the bed for ease of access in case Lu ended up waking up by throwing up in the middle of the night.

The last thing he did was fetch a glass of water from the kitchen, filling it up with mostly ice, so that by the time Lu awoke, there was a chance that it would still be cold for him.

Before he turned off the light in the room, he battled with the closet, the extra blanket and pillow he kept annoyingly in the middle of the shelf, where sliding the door to the left and right didn’t make it any easier to grab them. He ended up having to shove himself into the closet, something he swore he wouldn’t do again, and stretch, swiping the items of the shelf at last.

He then grabbed his toothbrush, some toothpaste, face wash, and a towel. Finally, he flicked off the light and trudged to the couch, throwing the blanket and pillow down before he used the kitchen sink to get ready for bed.

Seven minutes later, a glass of water in hand, Baptiste settled down on his bed for the night, his 6’ frame spanning the whole length of the couch.

He had spent enough nights crashing on the sofa to know how to tuck his legs and flop so that the old cushions cradled his frame and give him half a chance at getting a decent night’s rest.

Ah, who was he kidding, he thought as he set his phone’s alarm to ring in an hour. He was too paranoid about his guest’s state to just lay down and sleep the rest of the night away. 

He had to make sure that Lu was okay and safe, that was his responsibility. It was his fault that they were in this situation, he would make sure that the situation was all clear before he gave himself a pass to relax.

What was one more sleepless night in the grand scheme of things?

Olivia had always teased him about being too caring, too responsible, and as he threw an arm over his eyes, he had to give her some credit.

Goddammit. Maybe she really did know everything after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Homem muito bonito  
> Translation: Very handsome man  
> \-------  
> Kudos, comments, and feedback are always super appreciated!
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3
> 
> Questions, comments, or concerns? Hit me up on here or on my Twitter: https://twitter.com/KittenzCaboodle


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Chapter Warnings  
> Nona

The night was a blur to Lucio.

The last bit of lucidity that lingered told him he had been on the club dancefloor, drinking and talking to Baptiste. After that, everything looked like abstract watercolor.

There was a frame or two in the memory reel that was crystal clear every now and then. He remembered hands gently touching him, maneuvering him and touching his throat and jaw. He remembered Baptiste leaning over him a few times, a hand brushing against his forehead. He remembered a beautiful voice humming quietly at times too.

But that was about it.

So, when he woke up in a strange bed, his first thought was panic. His second thought was that Satya was going to be pissed. That made him panic more.

He sat up slowly, his eyes roaming the unfamiliar room. His head was pounding and his mouth felt dry. A glass of water lingered on the bedside table, looking more tempting by the second. Was he supposed to drink it?

He did, in the end. The water had a lingering chill to it that made the drink far more satisfying than a glass of water had any right to be.

After he drained that empty, he set the glass down and carefully swung his legs over the side of the bed, his steps tentative until he was sure that his footing wouldn’t fail him.

He peeked out into the hallway before he stepped outside the room. Wide eyes looked around the strange room, and a hand was brought to his temple as he stepped into the sunlit kitchen.

The space empty, he heard a sleepy groan nearby and bit in a surprised gasp at the sound. Who else was here?

The question was quickly answered as he spied Baptiste passed out on the couch. 

His arm was tucked next to his head, keeping a hold of the pillow behind him, and one leg was extended far enough that his foot sat on the opposite armrest. His other leg was bent, foot tucked under the first leg, and his free arm was laying across his exposed abdomen, his shirt having ridden up and the blanket having slipped down as he slept.

The early morning sun illuminated the wall above him, a few scant traces of light grazing his cheeks. He was stunning, even now, fast asleep on an old, beaten couch. 

The scene was a modern-day renaissance painting with the subject being so beautiful, the church would have banned the work from ever hanging on their walls; they didn’t stand for false gods, and with a face and body like his, what else could Baptiste possibly be a god?

Lucio was unsure of what to do now. Did he go back to bed and wait for Baptiste to awaken? Did he move about as silently as he could, looking for something for his queasy stomach and pounding head? Did he go back to sleep? Did he leave? He couldn’t leave without his shirt. Where had his shirt gone?

While he was certain he could have stood awkwardly down the hall for quite a while, looking like a confused night terror to the unprepared, debating what to do, he wasn’t giving that luxury of choice.

There was a song playing from the couch, one that Lucio recognized. It was from his second album, the latest one, and it was another one of his cousin-twice-removed songs, _Orange Juice_.

It had been conceived as a lighter song, one that was supposed to be the soundtrack to welcoming the next day, with a gentle build-up, a tropical fruity flavor, a sequel to a song from his first album, _Sun Drop._

He didn’t recognize the hard drops, the jagged edges to the tune, or the soulless sound to the music. He didn’t want to. In his book, the song was disowned, _Sun Drop_ would have a different brother. _Orange Juice_ wasn’t a part of his music family.

The song was his first surprise, the fact that it was Baptiste’s alarm sound and that the man was waking up were the next.

Baptiste sat up, rubbing at his eye with one hand, the other silencing the shrill alarm. As he began to stand, tugging his shirt back down over his torso, his eyes met Lucio’s.

“Oh!” he said. Apparently Lucio wasn’t the only one that was surprised. “You’re up early.”

Was he? It was already eight o’clock? He usually woke up at six on his later days.

“How’s your head?” Baptiste asked.

“Pounding. Lights hurts.” Lucio replied.

“Mine too.” Jean laughed, his face screwing up in immediate regret as even laughing hurt. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah, uh… too well.” Lucio said, “Um, what happened last night?”

He wasn’t sure if he was more nervous about the idea of something having happened or nothing have. No matter what Jean told him, it was going to be the right and wrong answer at the same time. There was no way to win.

“Nothing,” Jean assured him. “You…were drunk. Stumbling. I didn’t want anything to happen to you, so I brought you here and set you up for the night. I hope that was alright.”

“Yeah, it was fine. Thank you. I’m sorry that last night-” Lucio stumbled over his apology. “I usually don’t let go that much, I never do, but last night I just felt so good I couldn’t stop and-”

“Don’t worry about it. I have those days too,” Jean assured him. “Are you hungry? Or if you want to shower I’m sure I can find you some clothes to change into.”

“A shower sounds nice,” Lucio admitted.

“Have at it,” Jean gestured back down the hall. “Take as long as you need. I don’t pay a water bill. I’ll leave some clothes on the bed for you. Then a quick workout out here while you’re in there.”

“You’re gonna work out now?”

“If I don’t get it in now, I won’t at all today.” Baptiste shrugged. “I won’t be long. Just gonna do enough to say I did all I needed to for today. Go relax, Lu.”

Taking his advice, Lucio walked back to the bathroom and headed straight for the shower. He shut the door behind him and stripped down, stepping inside the glass stall.

The hot water felt sinfully good, and while he wanted to stay in there forever, the sound of the water pounding was too shrill and hurting his head. He went until he felt clean, took another three minutes to let hot water relax his sore muscles, and then blasted cold water to help wake himself up all of the way.

Upon exiting the bathroom, a towel cautiously wrapped around his waist, he found some neatly-folded clothes waiting for him on Baptiste’s bed. While the mostly purple hoodie, with some orange, blue, and white color blocking, was about two and a half sizes too big, somehow the gray sweatpants fit almost perfectly. 

If Lucio’s head hadn’t been ringing so much, he might have taken a second to wonder where Jean had found something that fit him so well, considering the man had over half a foot and probably twenty-five pounds of solid muscle on him.

Stepping back out to the living room, Lucio caught sight of Baptiste finishing up his workout routine. He was sitting on a foldable workout bench and doing dumbbell curls, counting his reps quietly.

His shirt was gone. Where it had gone, Lucio didn’t care. Right now he was enjoying one of the best views in all of New York City.

Baptiste finished the curls, apparently the last step in his workout routine, and began to put everything away, moving quickly. He had a routine for both working out and cleaning up, and he had both of them down pat.

“Do you eat pork?” Baptiste asked Lucio, not even looking his way as he knocked the bench down.

“Pork? Yeah, yes,” Lucio said, jumpstarting his brain that had been distracted by the thought of beef.

“Then have I got some food for you,” Baptiste said, sliding the equipment back under the couch, making use of every inch of space in his apartment. “I’ll heat it up after I go take a quick shower. I’ll be five minutes.”

Baptiste walked past Lucio, pausing for a moment. “You see my bookcase?” he said, pointing back behind him, “That’s where I keep my music. Feel free to pick out a cd and pop it in the radio in the kitchen, anything you want. I’ll be right back.”

Jean then walked into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. As Lucio made his way over to the bookcase, he heard the shower turn on behind him. Baptiste was wasting no time.

Lucio’s eyes roamed over the shelves, most of them filled with CDs as Baptiste had quite the collection, many of the bands sounding familiar, with a few he didn’t recognize.

His finger trailed along the jewel cases as he read the spines, debating what he wanted to hear. There were so many choices, there was a chance he could still be standing here when Baptise left the shower.

And indeed he was. There were so many options, all alphabetically sorted and taking up nearly every inch on the wide shelves, that he had only read through the first two rows by the time Baptise was done with his quick rinse. It didn’t help that his eyes were hurting along with his head, making him read very slowly.

“Still looking?” Baptiste asked teasingly as he stepped out of the bedroom, “Take your time. I know there’s a lot to pick from.”

“You’ve got quite the collection,” Lucio agreed, eyes roaming over all of the choices. “I haven’t seen this many CDs in one place since I last stepped into a record store.”

What he didn’t add was that he had been doing a fan signing at the record store back in California. It had been quite a quirky and fascinating place, and it was a shame he hadn’t had any free time to return to it.

“I’ve got a weakness for physical editions of my music. I’ve got some digital music too, but I prefer CDs.” Baptiste said from behind him, “Olivia teases me about it all the time. She’s a digital-only kind of girl. That’s not me though... How’s your head?”

Lucio took a moment to weigh how much his head hurt and realized that, yes, it hurt a lot still.

“Still pounding,” Lucio answered.

“Mmm, mine too.” A cabinet creaked open in the kitchen, and there was the rattling of pills in a bottle. “Have you ever had any reactions, allergic or otherwise, to any medications or foods?”

The question gave Lucio pause and he stopped skimming over the shelf, eyes looking over Baptiste’s way. The answer he was going to give, that he hadn’t, was forgotten as he saw was Jean had changed into.

An unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt hung loosely on his frame, showing off his washboard abs, the beautiful light blue background complemented by the golden-green fern leaves and many, large white hibiscuses, with the short sleeves doing the Lord’s work by not hiding his very toned arms. 

Lucio had never seen anyone wearing a Hawaiian shirt both unironically and un-vacationly. How did that eye-hurting thing look so perfectly good on him?

Baptiste had been waiting for an answer and, after a brief curiosity on what he could be wearing on his lower-half, a thought that was growing more concerning as Lucio wondered what the counter was shielding him from, Lucio finally gave him an answer.

“No, nothing I can think of,” Lucio finally said.

“So ibuprofen would be okay?” he asked, “I have acetaminophen as well, but ibuprofen would be better for the situation.”

Was he speaking English? “What are you talking about exactly?” Lucio had to ask, “We’re gonna what?”

“Ibuprofen is… Advil and it would be absorbed by your body mostly before it hits the liver,” Baptiste tried to explain to Lucio’s poor hungover brain. “Acetaminophens, uhm, Tylenol, are processed by the liver. Both are good acute pain killers, like for headaches, but because we’re hungover the liver is working overtime, so Ibu- Advil would be the optimal choice assuming you’ve had no prior reactions to it. If you did, then we would go to naproxen before an acetaminophen because it’s processed similarly to ibuprofens.”

Lucio knew some of those words and had a general grasp of what he was talking about. “Oh…” he said as he understood, “Okay.”

“You’ll need to take it with food, so I’ll hand them out as soon as I’m done reheating breakfast.”

“What are you making?” Lucio asked, inhaling the savory scent in the air, “It smells so good.”

“It’s one of my favorite foods. Ever. I make it too much,” Baptiste said with a laugh, “I actually made most of this food yesterday afternoon so that I would have it ready to eat after a night spent at the club.”

“Clever.” Lucio praised him, “You cook a lot?”

“I don’t make many things, but what I make I do well,” Baptiste replied. He wasn’t bragging, it was just a statement.

As breakfast grew close to being done, Lucio realized he had yet to pick a track. He’d best rectify that, he thought as his eyes returned to the shelf, and soon.

He reached shelf number three, he recognized the first case on the shelf. It was Lucio’s first album, the signed edition that came in the sleeved packaging. There had only been five hundred of these made. Lucio had wanted more, he would have signed CDs until his hand fell off, but Vishkar nixed it, wanting to drive up the market for the second wave they had never released.

He hadn’t seen one of these since the end of the development phase. Talk about a nostalgia wave, wow.

Unable to resist, Lucio pulled the case out, surprised how tightly it was wedged into place. He gave it another tug and it came loose, along with a dark folder he hadn’t seen tucked in against the bookcase’s wall.

The leather folder hit the ground, and Lucio froze. That had been an accident. He hadn’t meant to-

“I heard something fall,” Baptiste spoke from the kitchen, the scent of something delicious filling the room as something sizzled on the stove. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Lucio assured him. “I didn’t see this folder thing and it fell when I pulled out a cd.”

“Ah,” he said, fingers snapping as he figured out what had happened, “Don’t worry about it. Nothing’s hurt, nothing’s broken, it’s just my degree. Slip it back in when you’re done, please.”

“Your degree? Like a college degree?” Lucio asked, curious, “Why’s your degree hidden in here?”

“It’s… nothing I need out at the moment,” Baptiste said with a shrug.

“What’s your degree in?” Lucio asked. Could people get degrees to be bartenders? Was that a class people could take?

“I have a Bachelors in Nursing,” Baptiste replied.

“Nursing?” He didn’t mean nursing drinks all night long. “You’re a nurse?”

Lucio flipped open the folder, eyes skimming over the decorated paper as he read a few of the standout words on the paper.

_Story Brook University..._

_Bachelors in Nursing..._

_Jean-Baptiste Augustin._

The cursive of his name stood out in the wall of text on the paper, the gold sticker in the corner highlighting the prestige of the paper in his hand. That explained all his medical jargon about the pills.

So not only was Baptiste beautiful, kind, and talented, but also really smart. How did anyone else in the world stand a chance when God dumped all the dust jugs of blessings into this man’s soul?

“I _was_ a nurse, but I’m not currently pursuing that career path at the moment.” was all Baptiste said in reply, and Lucio caught on to his tone enough to know that this avenue of conversation was over. He may have had some questions, but he had no right to ask them. Instead, he kept his mouth shut.

He slipped the folder back onto the shelf, taking a second CD of his album, the not-so-prestigious copy, and carefully fitting the disc into the player. It would be nice to revisit his first tracks, listening to them in a stress-free environment where he didn’t feel pressured to _innovate._

As the first track’s bopping beat began to play, Baptiste raised his head and listened, a smile sliding onto his lips. “Ah!” he said excitedly, the sound of his foot tapping on the vinyl floor audible, “I see you are a man of taste.”

“I have a soft spot for this music, yeah,” Lucio replied. “This CD’s got some of my favorite tracks on it.”

It was the truth. His title album still to this day had songs that made his heart sing and mood soar, and it was fantastic to be somewhere where he could enjoy the music for what it was instead of thinking of what new songs had to be.

“Mine too. There’s something almost healing about the music. It’s almost magical in a way, how the songs make me feel better and help keep me moving at times. I listened to this CD a lot during a rough patch. It sounds odd to say, but it was there for me, adding color to a world gone gray.” Baptiste said, “These are my second and third copies of it actually, I wore out the first one. Sprung for a nice one this time as my way of saying thanks in the only way you can to CDs and the artists, I guess. With money.”

A joy that Lucio hadn’t felt for a long time bloomed inside his chest as he listened to Baptiste talk about his music. It was a reminder of why he even began making music in the first place, with him looking for a way to add his own dose of happiness into the world.

“It’s a good bunch of songs,” Lucio said, wanting to agree with Baptiste without tooting his own horn too much.

“In a way, listening to it again… it feels like meeting a bunch of old friends,” Jean replied, sighing happily, “That’s probably why his second album was such a disappointment.”

Lucio’s head perked up at the comment, his need for feedback growing stronger. He didn’t mind a healthy dose of constructive criticism, and, if he could pry more, it would be refreshing to hear an opinion from someone that wasn’t a music critic, Vishkar, or an angry fan keysmashing on an internet board.

“Food’s ready,” Baptiste said, pulling two orange plates out of the cabinet behind him and setting them down on the counter. “Water, orange juice, or milk?”

There was an opening. “Orange juice, please,” he said as he headed over to the counter.

“Alright.” Baptiste said as he pulled out two glasses, “You don’t mind pulp, do you?”

The question caught Lucio by surprise. “I-pulp?” he couldn’t help but say, “I have never met anyone that drinks it with pulp before.”

“That’s a shame. Studies show that the pulp houses numerous nutrients, including vitamins A and C, antioxidants and flavonoids, and fiber, which helps to lower triglycerides and cholesterol levels and aid the digestion.” Baptiste informed him, “Did you still want juice to drink, despite the pulp or...?”

“Half a glass to start, please,” he said as he pulled out a chair from the bar and pulled himself up into the seat. His phone was digging into his leg, so he pulled it out of his pocket and set it face down on the counter. “Can’t resist the sound of those… flavonoids. Mmm mmm, yum.”

Baptiste attempted to shoot Lucio a stern cocked-brow look, but he couldn’t keep a straight face long enough for it to have any effect. He gave up, shaking his head and rolling his eyes, and giving Lucio his glass, turning back to the fridge in a poor attempt to hide his grin. 

A moment later a Baptiste was placing a plate in front of Lucio, with a nicely browned piece of toast accompanied by a large helping of meat. The meat was cubed, drenched in a sauce, and it turned out to be the source of the delicious scent that had been filling the room.

As his mouth began to water, Baptiste nabbed his attention once more by then placing a small bowl of porridge, topped with some sliced bananas, and a dish of jam next to him. Then Jean grabbed his own food, a mirror of Lucio’s, and sat in a chair that he pulled to the end of the counter, giving both of them space despite how small the bar was.

“Toast, plantain porridge, grapefruit jam,” he said, pointing at the items in front of Lucio, “Pork griot. There’s butter in the fridge if you’d prefer that on your toast. I hope you enjoy it as much as I will.”

Everything looks and smells so good, I don’t even know where to start,” Lucio confessed.

“Follow your heart?” Baptiste jokingly suggested, digging his spoon into the thick porridge.

“Yeah, I guess,” Lucio laughed, “That’s what brought me back to New York in the first place.”

He immediately regretted what he said, teeth clamping down on his bottom lip. He saw Baptiste lowering his spoon out of the corner of his eye and he began to mentally berate him and his big mouth.

“Why _are_ you back in New York?” Jean asked him. “You said you were from California last night. Are you visiting family here or a friend or…?”

“No. No, um, it was just… Just you,” he confessed. What did he get from lying? Other than a potential reassurance that Baptiste wouldn’t think he was a crazed stalker, that was. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you and you’re an even better person than I could have dared to imagine. The more I learn about you, the more I-”

_...think I love you._ He couldn’t say it. That wasn’t just the kind of thing that people said. It was a sacred phrase, something that had to be earned. To just say it was disrespectful.

“Well, you’ve met me, Lu. Now what?” Jean asked, calmly eating a spoonful of his porridge as he waited for Lucio to answer.

“Um…” what was he supposed to say now? Was there a right answer? Anything he could think to say didn’t seem right.

“Are you free today?” Baptiste asked, tiring of watching Lucio sweat in the hot seat.

“Am I free?” he asked hesitantly.

“Yes. I have a day off today and I could show you around New York if you have no plans. I’ve lived here for a while, save for a short time away,” he said with a shrug, “I also want to get to know you better, Lu. You’re like a breath of fresh air, and I’m not ready to stop breathing you in.”

His heart hammered in his chest as Baptiste spoke. How could he be so calm, voice deliciously confident, looking at him with dark eyes and effortlessly melting Lucio into a puddle with nothing but words and dashing good looks? That wasn’t fair.

“Please-” Lucio swallowed a mouthful of pooling saliva down his throat as he calmed down and continued, “I would love that, Baptiste.”

“Wonderful. I’ll think about where to go while we eat,” he said, “How do you like the orange juice? Managing the pulp over there?”

“Yeah, it’s weird, but it’s fine,” Lucio said, sitting up as he was reminded of his earlier question. “You said that DJ Lucio’s second album wasn’t as good as the first, but you’ve got _Orange Juice_ as your alarm. Why?”

“Oh, that’s a trick Olivia taught me in college,” he said, pausing as he ate another spoonful of porridge, “Make a song you hate your alarm music so that you don’t ruin the songs you love by associating them with having to get up.”

That stung more than he anticipated. “You hate _Orange Juice_?”

“It’s… not my favorite. Not many songs on the second album are,” Baptiste admitted. “It feels soulless compared to the first. Less authentic. It’s not making a statement, it’s not creating emotion, it's just making noise. _Breakdown_ is fun, it’s the catchiest one, and _Symbiosis_ is probably the most memorable track, and _Synthphony_ is a gorgeous blend between techno and orchestral music, but most of them, to me, were meh. But I’m definitely more partial to the first album’s sound, _Rejuvenescência_ being my favorite track of his of all time, so take my opinion as you will.” 

_Synthphony_ hadn’t charted, dubbing it a failure to Vishkar’s eyes. However, it was one of Lucio’s favorite tracks on the album. It had been experimental, and garnered mixed reviews for being different, but, to Lucio, it was special.

Hearing that someone else appreciated a track outside the box, that someone else _got it,_ made his heart beat faster in his chest.

“I didn’t like _Orange Juice_ much either,” he agreed with Baptiste, spooning a bite of porridge into his mouth. The yellow color of the porridge was as appetizing to the eyes as the food was to his tongue.

Whatever else he had been about to say was forgotten as he tasted the porridge. Sweet. Smooth. Cinnamon. Coconut milk and plantain…

It tasted like a Saturday morning meal, a simple dish his mother whipped up for him, on the days when he had gotten to spend at home and when waking up hadn’t been a struggle. All flavors of his childhood, of a simpler and happy life, something he hadn’t been able to taste for a long time.

He felt a tear threatening to slip out of his right eye. Bringing a fist to his mouth, he closed his eyes, putting that damn tear back in its place.

“Goddamn,” he murmured after he swallowed the thick liquid.

“Not to your liking?” Baptiste asked calmly. Lucio glanced his way and was met with an intense stare, one that was immediately averted as their eyes met. Baptiste was watching him closely as he ate and it looked like he was getting the wrong idea.

“No, God, no. No. It’s incredible. It’s so good.” he said, trying to assure him as quickly as he could. “It tastes like… home. My mom loved cooking with plantains. She made something like this too.”

His answer had Jean immediately relaxing in his seat. “What’s her recipe?” he asked with a smile.

“I don’t know,” Lucio had to admit.

“Ah, it’s a family secret. I understand.” Baptiste said with a knowing nod.

That wasn’t exactly true, but it was an easier explanation, so he was gonna stick with it.

As he began to take another spoonful, there was a knock at the door. Baptiste looked at the door curiously, slowly pushing back his chair and heading towards it. It didn’t take him long to get there, but the knocking at the door had yet to stop and, in fact, only grown louder.

Baptiste unlocked the door, ignoring the peephole with confidence. He seemed to know who was on the other side.

And indeed he did. The door was opened, revealing Olivia on the other side. Her hand was raised, caught mid-knock, but it lowered as soon as she realized the door was open.

“Hey, Bap-street Boy.” Olivia greeted him.

“What have you got there, Livvy?” Baptiste asked, causing Lucio to lean over in his seat to see what was going on.

In Olivia’s other hand she held a large bottle filled with a red liquid. Lucio would have wondered if it was more alcohol, except it was a plastic bottle with a twist top, not the usual alcohol-baring fair.

“Pedialyte,” she said with a shrug, “I thought that maybe you two would maybe have been dehydrated and I maybe got a little worried that you were still passed out or something.”

Baptiste crossed his arms, casually leaning against the doorframe. “And what would you have done with it if we were still passed out after such a dangerous amount of time?”

Olivia frowned, glancing between the bottle in her hand and Baptiste. “I don’t know,” she mused, heaving the bottle in her hand and testing its weight, “Beat you awake with it, I guess?”

“Couldn’t you have called and seen how we were instead of… arming yourself?” Baptiste asked patiently, stepping to the side and letting her in the room.

“Well, see, that’s the thing. I also left my phone in your bag last night,” she said, “So, like, I _would_ have called, but I couldn’t.”

“Oh!” Jean looked around the room, finally spying where he had dropped the bag off. He pointed it out to her, “Over there. Have at it.”

She mosied over to the bag, unzipping it and digging through the clothes stuffed inside as she looked for her phone.

“So, Lu, how are you holding up?” she asked as she pawed through the bag.

“Oh, I’m okay. Getting better.” he replied, “Drinking some flavanoid-filled OJ-”

“FlavOnoid.” Baptiste corrected as he returned to his seat.

“Oh? Flavanoids? It’s too early for you to be talking nonsense, Bap-to-the-future,” Olivia joked, ignoring Jean and looking Lucio’s way, “He does know his stuff, though, so you can trust him. I don’t know how all that brain matter fits in his head.”

“I’ll be sure to remember that,” Lucio replied. “How are you?”

“Fine, fine…” she glanced up, “Did you try out his big, strong, huggable arms yet?”

Lucio leaned back in his seat, confused. “What?”

Her grin got bigger. “Lick his face?”

“I-” Lucio saw Baptiste waving his hands out of the corner of his eye, motioning for her to stop.

She laughed, “I’m only teasing-”

Her reply was cut off by the sound of a phone vibrating with a call. Lucio’s phone rumbled on the laminate counter, and he snatched it up before it could shake, rattle, and roll off the edge.

He looked at the screen and saw Satya’s name. His heart sank as he realized that he probably hadn’t texted her last night and it seemed like she had been expecting his morning text by now. She had given him very few restrictions and he had already let her down.

“Uh, I need to take this,” he said, scooting his chair back. He looked towards the bedroom. “Do you mind if I-?”

“Go ahead,” Jean said, waving him down the hall.

Lucio walked quickly down the hall, overhearing Olivia quietly ask “are those my sweatpants?” as he left, and quietly closed the bedroom door behind him as he answered the phone.

“Hello?” he answered nervously, praying that she wasn’t going to be too angry with him.

“Hello, Lucio,” Satya’s calm voice greeted him, relaxing him instantly, “You forgot to text me last night after you got back.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I just…” got drunk and passed out was not a good answer, “...got tired and passed out as soon as I was in bed.”

And that was all true. He did get tired, he did pass out, and he was in a bed.

“The time change hit you hard then. Well, I’m glad to hear that you’re doing alright.” She said, “How is your search going?”

“It-” a ding on the other end threw him off, that was the message sound, “Who are you talking to? Work?”

“It’s related to work,” she said slowly, “I’ve been talking to Mr. Shimada… the elder brother Hanzo. We talked about him and his brother, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember.” he said, “Are you still trying to set something up with Genji?”

“We’ve toyed with the idea. I’ve been offering him a lot of advice lately, he’s new to managing, so I’ll definitely have more pull in the future. He hates owing people,” she said, “And he’s been offering me some advice in turn.”

“Like what?”

“That’s-” there was a voice in the distance, one that sounded pissed. “I have to go.”

“Everything okay?”

“Fine, fine, everything’s fine,” she said quickly, “Text me tonight, alright, once you’re back in your room for the night?”

“I will,” he told her. “Promise.”

“Tee tee why ell,” she said, “Take care of yourself. Bye.”

“Bye-” was all Lucio managed to say before she hung up on him.

That… had gone better than he figured. Of course, she didn’t know all that he had gotten up to last night. But for being such a stickler, she had definitely been lax about him missing his call time.

He hung up and began walking to the door. His hand paused on the knob as he heard Baptiste and Olivia talking in the kitchen.

“-hope that’s not his girlfriend or something,” Olivia was saying, “for your sake.”

“What do you mean, ‘for my sake’?” Baptiste replied.

“Oh, please,I can see you’ve got it bad for him,” there were footsteps, “Two of Jean-Baptiste’s best dishes, the panana porridge-”

“Stop trying to make panana happen, it’s a plantain-”

“And his pork griot, his absolute favorite meal. The food he would eat for the rest of his life if he could, his treasured dish.” Olivia said, “And! And, you even pulled out the oh-so-scrumptious grapefruit jam you make. That’s special occasion food... Are you trying to get him to propose to you or something?”

He could hear Baptiste blow out a loud breath. “I was hungry and it would be rude- Don’t give me that look.” he sighed, “I just think that maybe - _maybe-_ you’re right... I told you to stop with that look.”

Lucio couldn’t see her grin, but he could hear it in her voice. “What am I right about this time?”

“Things have been so gray lately. This time of year always gets so cloudy for me and it couldn’t hurt to let a little bit of sunshine in, for just a little while.” he said.

“Well, you’re certainly dressed for some sunny weather-”

“Oh, haha.”

“You’re not dressing up and pretending to be someone you’re not, that’s for sure,” she laughed teasingly, “That’s a good sign, by the way, Bap.”

“He seems to like me for… me. At least as much as he knows me.” Baptiste agreed. “It’s kind of hard to believe that someone does.”

“Jean, you’re a swell guy, alright? You’re kind, and caring, a good cook, got a sense of humor, you’re smart too, got moves, can carry a tune, and you got a nice face and body. You’re one of the best catches there is in our corner of the sea,” she said, “And if your sense of fashion hasn’t scared him off by now, I’ve no doubt he’ll be leaping into those huggable arms of yours before long. Just keep being you, okay? ‘You’ is why he’s here. Don’t waste time fretting about it.”

Jean laughed quietly. “Is that my motivational speech for the day?”

“The abridged version.” she said, “I don’t think I have time to go through the whole ‘the best letters of the alphabet are U and I and here is Y” speech today.”

“Have I heard that one before?”

“You heard its cousin, ‘if plan A fails, there’s 25 more letters. And then the greek alphabet to fallback on if worse comes to worst.’”

“Ah, yes, that one.” he said. “The ol’ ‘something’s gotta work eventually’ speech.”

“Did you have any plans for today then?”

“Lu is free, so I thought I would show him around New York for awhile.”

“Oh, good! Take him to the tree in the park tonight. It’s gorgeous.” she said, “Just make sure that you’ve got a toddler-leash on him so you don’t lose him in the crowd.”

“I’ll keep him safe,” Baptiste promised. “Did you find your phone?”

“I did, yeah.”

“Surprised you forgot it,” he said, “That thing’s usually attached to your hand all day long-”

Lucio finally turned the knob and stepped out of the room, heading back out towards the kitchen. Olivia and Jean stopped talking, looking towards him.

“Everything alright?” Baptiste asked.

“Who were you talking to?” Olivia asked, ignoring how Jean sent her a look.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Lucio assured him as he returned to his seat at the bar, “That was my… aunt. Well, not my aunt exactly, but she kinda took over that role in my life. She’s not related to me, but she’s like an older sister, and that was one of her check-in calls because I forgot to text her. She gets worried easily, you know?”

“I know the type.” Olivia said, heading to the door, “It’s been great seeing you, but I gotta go.”

“Later, Olivia,” Baptiste said. “Take care.”

“Bye,” Lucio added.

“Have fun, boys,” she said as she left, pausing in the doorway, “Make sure you try the jam, Lu, Jean makes it himself. It’s _divine_.”

She closed the door behind her, leaving the two of them to continue eating their breakfast. Lucio snagged another heaping spoonful of the porridge.

“You’re welcome to seconds of anything,” Jean assured him, watching him eat with gusto, “ _Manje kwit pa gen mèt._ Food’s meant to be shared.”

“Gosh, don’t tempt me. I don’t usually eat big meals, but I think the only way I’m gonna stop is by running out.” Lucio confessed, “Could I get a recipe later if that’s okay with you?”

“Absolutely.” Baptiste told him easily, “My grandmother loved to share recipes. She’d be thrilled that you asked, as am I. I’ll write it down later.”

“Is the jam her recipe too?” Lucio asked, slathering a healthy schmear of the goo onto his toast. 

“Yes.” Baptiste answer, his fork pausing as he replied. “Should I add that to the list of recipes too?”

Lucio didn’t immediately answer, sinking his teeth into the crunchy bread as he took a large bite. The fruit flavor exploded in his mouth, the taste heightened by the spice of cinnamon and the tang of ginger in the jam. It was sweet, but not overly sweet, and he probably could eat this by the heaping spoonful straight from the jar if given the chance.

“Ysh-” he paused, hand covering his mouth as he swallowed, “Yes, please.”

“Will do,” Jean assured him.

Lucio continued to nibble as his plate, finishing off the toast and nearly the porridge, unable to stop eating them, before he made it to the pork griot. He speared a piece of meat with his fork and sunk his teeth into the tender morsel.

The meat was juicy, dripping in a savory sauce, but fried enough to give it some crunch. There was some heat, black pepper and chile, making a pleasant warmth in the back of his throat and the tang of citrus bringing a beautiful bite to the well-seasoned pork.

It was so good he almost wanted to cry. A groan worked its way out of his throat as he slowly chewed the pork, his hand flapping in front of his chest as he tried to express his joy about the food.

Baptiste seemed to receive the signal loud and clear. “I’ll add that one to the list too,” he said with a quiet laugh as he ate away at his breakfast.

Eventually, they finished breakfast and Jean put their dishes in the sink, running enough water for them to soak. 

“I’ll deal with them later,” he told Lucio, “When were you hoping to head out?”

“Anytime’s good. I got no plans for today, except to hang out with you,” Lucio replied, “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Then be ready soon,” Jean said as he entered the bedroom, now wearing dark jeans on exit, and returning with two, warm-looking jackets and a bag. On closer inspection, it was a fanny pack. Lucio had thought that was a tourist bag, not a native New Yorker look.

Jean draped the jackets over the chair and began rummaging through the bag, items clinking as he determined what was inside. Satisfied, he tugged on the dark-blue puffy coat, complete with a hood, and strapped the pack over a shoulder, with the bag part resting against his chest.

It was a look, that was for sure, compounded by the fact that Lucio _knew_ that he was wearing a Hawaiian shirt underneath that too, with its bright blue color popping out of the top of the coat.

Baptiste seemed to have many superpowers. One of them was being able to look good in anything.

It wasn’t long after that that the two of them were heading out the door, with Lucio wearing a spare jacket of Baptiste’s - a forest green puffy coat, with no hood this time- at the man’s insistence. It was frightfully cold outside and he wanted to be sure that Lucio was bundled up well.

He gave Lucio quite the tour of the town, with Lucio having given him the freedom to show him Jean’s favorite spots, touristy or not. Gloved hands tucked in pockets, they walked, with Lucio blindly following wherever Jean led. He was finding that he didn’t mind Baptiste being in charge.

They briefly hit a vintage antique store, giving the few aisles a quick tour, and then a thrift store, with designs that leaned more towards eccentricity bright than the usual drab fair. Baptiste briefly pawed through a rack of bright shirts, debating a neon green and orange splat pattern shirt before even he passed on that one.

Then he took him to an old music store, the dusty shelves filled with records, cassettes, 8tracks, and cds, all artifacts to the modern music listener. Their quick pace slowed as Baptiste realized that Lucio was having a casual look around, and the two of them busied themselves, digging through the boxes upon boxes of barely organized media.

An hour later, once the dust of the store was making their eyes water miserably, they were moving again. They stopped briefly at a small convenience store, where Baptiste bought them each a bottle of water, citing how important hydration was, and then continued walking.

As they walked he pointed out a small deli that had delicious food, their sandwiches excellent, but they were New Yorkers through and through and they would belittle you to no end as you tried to order, and sometimes, just sometimes, no sandwich was worth that crippling loss of self-esteem. But sometimes, just sometimes, it was.

Then they passed by a hole-in-the-wall market that Jean highly praised. They stocked a lot of international food there, one of the few nearby places that offered a taste of home for him, and would make special orders for some of their more loyal, special customers, Baptiste making that coveted list. 

That didn’t surprise Lucio. He had only known Jean for a day and knew that he was pretty special. The more they walked and talked, the more he found himself falling. The way Baptiste grew more familiar, less formal and more playful, as they hung out, he hoped he wasn’t the only one feeling this way.

From there they wandered around Central Park, with Baptiste talking about how beautiful it looked in the spring, with the grass green and the geese and ducks swimming in the lakes in the early morning light, painting a picturesque scene with words alone. Swans, however graceful they looked, were the devil and to always be avoided.

As the evening grew later, and light began to dwindle, Baptiste walked him over to Rockefeller Center, which was absolutely bustling with activity, and showed him the Channel Garden, still beautiful in a blanket of snow, despite the lack of foliage this time of year.

The garden area was more quiet than the rest of the mess, and as they headed back into the mess, Baptiste grabbed Lucio’s hand, their fingers threading together as he held on tightly to him.

There was a crowd around the tree, with couples kissing under the glowing lights, people taking selfies, and children running around while playing. Baptiste jokingly offered to pick Lucio up so that he could see over other people and while Lucio said no, he could feel his face flush as he thought about how easy it would be for Baptiste to do just that.

“I imagine it was quite the spectacle here yesterday,” Baptiste said idly, “They lit the tree yesterday. I heard it’s quite the hubbub.”

“Have you been to one before?” Lucio asked, adoring the way the tree lights shone on Baptiste’s sharp cheekbones. If there was one image that Lucio could save as his brain’s screensaver, the view he had of Baptiste under the evening New York sky, illuminated by the soft, colorful glow of the tree, would be it.

“A long time ago, when I first moved here, I went. I did for a few years, but I didn’t like the crowd or I was working and I used that as an excuse not to go.” he said, “If you can, I recommend going to it, at least once in your life. It’s fun.”

“Maybe I will,” Lucio said, gaze returning to the tree. “Jean, um, thanks for taking the time to show me around today, it was really fun.”

“Do you want to keep walking around?” he asked carefully, his fingers twitching against Lucio’s nervously,“I could show you more of Rockefeller if you wanted.”

“I’d like that,” he said. Whatever it took to keep this evening from ending so soon.

They left the tree and Jean continued to point things out, like the observation tower. He offered to take Lucio up there, but, while Lucio was trying to think of a tactful way to say no, because he didn’t like heights, he spotted an ice skating rink and gasped excitedly.

Baptiste followed his gaze, spying the rink. “You skate?” he asked Lucio.

“All the time, it’s like-” he bit his tongue before he finished saying ‘my life’, “Skating’s so fun. It’s been awhile since I ice-skated, though. I miss it.”

Baptiste caught his wistful tone. “...Do you want to go skating?”

“You wouldn’t mind? I’ll pay for both of us.”

“You don’t-”

“I insist. My treat!” Lucio said, walking towards the massive rink, tugging Baptiste along behind. A moment later they were at the counter, with Lucio pulling out his wallet as he talked to the woman at the check-out.

“Do you have a size ten and a half skate available?” he said, watching as the woman silently plunked a set of skates on the counter, “And a- Jean, what’s your shoe size?”  
  
“It’s a bit early to ask something like that,” Jean said from behind him, causing Lucio to turn around and tilt his head.

“...What?” he asked, completely confused about what Baptiste was saying.

“You know the joke? The bigger the shoe size, the bigger the c-” Baptise’s smile grew unsure the more he talked, eyes darting between Lucio and the woman’s dead-inside stare, “-sock” he finished unceremoniously. “...I’ll take a size twelve.”

She heaved his pair of skates up on the counter and Lucio paid for them, also purchasing a small locker for their shoes. Lucio led them under the outdoor alcove, used the key, and opened the locker. He slipped off his shoes and stuck them inside, with plenty of room left for Jean’s sneakers.

As he sat down at the nearby bench and began tying on his skates, he noticed how slowly Baptiste was moving.

“Everything okay?” Lucio called out to him, watching as he slowly turned to look his way.

“I suppose now would be a good time to tell you I don’t know how to skate. I’ve never done it before.” he confessed, “And I’m not sure I’m ready to look like an idiot out there in front of you quite yet.”

“I can teach you if you want,” Lucio offered, “It’s fun once you get the hang of it. But don’t feel like you have to, Baptiste, I didn’t mean to-”

Baptiste, who had put his shoes away and shut the locker, sat next to Lucio on the bench. “You can’t laugh. If I fall, if I look stupid, you say nothing.” he said, as he tugged on his skates, “I’ll try. Don’t leave me to struggle alone, Lu. I make no promises except to try my best.”

“And I promise to do my best to show you how to skate, to not leave you, and I would never laugh at you,” Lucio swore his oath, carefully getting to his feet, crouching in front of Baptiste, “You trust me?”

“I trust you.” Baptiste said slowly, watching Lucio as he tied his skates for him, tugging on the tongue and making sure they were on tight.

“That feel secure?” he asked, “Not loose, not too tight?”

Full of trepidation, Baptiste tried to stand, wobbling on the thin skate blade. “It feels fine,” he let out a nervous breath as he struggled to stay balanced, “Now ice?”

“Now ice.” Lucio replied, easily balancing on his own skates as he did what he could to help Baptiste cross the short gap between them and the rink. He guided Baptiste down onto the ice and ensured he had a semblance of balance and a grip on the siderail before he relaxed and followed him on down.

Lucio lived and breathed skating. He had played hockey when he was younger, for years starting when he was but a tyke, before the size difference between him and the other preteen players, and a time where he ended up being the bottom bitch of the dogpile, scared his parents into pulling him from the team. They instead had encouraged him with his music, his other, safer, passion.

He kept skating casually, as he got older, going back to ice skating occasionally when his parents had no longer been able to tell him no, learning how to move as effortless on ice as he did on land. Skating was how he relaxed. It was easy to focus on nothing but him and the road as he rollerbladed his worries away. 

While he was in the Vishkar training camp, a place for their school graduates to continue to train, his talent had caught notice from the higher-ups, and they demanded he incorporate it into his work. It was easy and it, along with his music, gave him the edge and moved him from being a bottom bitch to the top of the Vishkar newbie dogpile.

Skating was his life. So it was foreign to watch someone be so nervous and scared about one of his favorite activities in the world. And it made him all the more determined to help Jean feel just a fraction of the joy skating brought to him.

He coached him. The first thing he did was teach him how to fall. It was inevitable, falling happened to everyone, so he wanted to make sure that Jean knew how. He even demonstrated for him, letting himself slip onto the ice. So now, even if Jean fell, he wouldn’t be the first one to.

Then he worked on balance, showing him how to get his legs under him, how not to lean back because that would lead to falling, and to make sure that he looked up and not at his feet.

Then he showed him how to stop, turning his toes in and pushing out on his heels so that once he got started, he didn’t have to worry about braking.

Only after that, making sure that he was informed and safe, did Lucio help lead him along the rail, skating with him as he made some baby steps towards progress.

His hand held tightly onto Lucio’s arm, only after Lucio had offered it to him, and, while he was tense the whole time, his movements grew a bit more fluid by the time they had made it halfway around the rink. He wouldn’t be winning any awards, and he wasn’t mentally ready to leave the railing, but it was progress and it was nothing to be ashamed of.

“We’re not doing that.” were the first words that Jean spoke, and Lucio turned, looking at the couples skating by, arm in arm, confidence oozing every time they lapped the two of them.

“We don’t have to.” Lucio told him, “You’re doing great.”

“Not that great.” Baptiste’s jaw clicked shut as he struggled to keep his feet under him, shutting up as he concentrated.

“Find it hard to believe you’ve never skated before.”

“Please don’t make fun of me.” Baptiste pleaded.

“I’m serious!” Lucio said, “You’re picking it up quick, man. Coulda’ told me it’s just been a while since you had and I’d’ve believed you.”

“You’re lying.” Baptiste said suspiciously.

“Never.” Lucio promised, “Never in a million years.”

Slowly, it seemed like Baptiste was beginning to believe him.  
“Well, considering I spent most of the first decade of my life in Haiti, where our winters are _seventy degrees_ and ice skating only comes in fever dreams, I suppose I’m not doing terribly.” he reluctantly admitted.

“That’s the spirit!” Lucio said, “You’re doing great, Baptiste, and I’m proud of you for trying. Thanks.”

They slowed as they neared the beginning of the wide loop of the rink, closing in on their entrance to the ice. Baptiste slowed, holding onto the rail with two hands.

“Why don’t you go skate for a bit?” he said, “You wanted to skate, not babysit me.”

“I promised I wouldn’t leav-”

“I’m asking you to,” Jean said, quickly adding, “I want to watch you skate without me slowing you down, show me what I can aspire to be one day.”

Lucio laughed, not at Baptiste, but at the thought that he had anyone else he would ever aspire to be. The man was incredible enough already.

But, at Baptiste’s insistence, Lucio skated back from the rail, giving himself enough room to move about.

There was a song playing on the speakers, a tune that he recognized and enjoyed well enough. Testingly, he glided along to the beat, making sure that his feet were as confident as they were telling him. Once he was sure of that, he let himself be a little freer, allowing himself to dance along to the music.

He wanted to close his eyes and pretend that no one was watching, but that was a rather dangerous and stupid thing to do on a crowded skating rink. Instead he looked everywhere but where Baptiste stood, unwilling to let himself face him.

But after a quick bout of turns on the ice, a tight spin that nearly got away from him, their eyes met. The bright rink lights reflected in his eyes, doing nothing to hide the look of amazement besotting them. His jaw was slack, mouth just parted, until a lone word was whispered from his lips.

“ _Wow.”_

That one word was all it took for Lucio’s heart to stop.

Wow? Wow??

He had actually impressed someone. They were amazed. They were entertained with his performance. He was doing it and doing it right this time. He had done it. 

He _could_ do it.

Confidence he didn’t know that he even had bloomed brightly in his chest, warming him from his head to his toes. _He could do it!_

The thought powered him through a few more moves, each more complicated than the last, making the most of their less busy corner of the rink. There was no routine to follow, he just let the distant melody guide his every move, following only the rhythm he felt in his soul.

And then the song ended.

He bowed with a flourish, looking up at Baptiste expectantly as he effortlessly held his pose on the ice. His eyes were wide, entranced, and Lucio knew from the look in them that he wasn’t the only one of them wanting and waiting for more.

Baptiste still stood against the rail, using it to hold himself up. He uneasily raised a hand, but it shot back to the rail the second his foot threatened to slide out from under him, an uneasy hum leaving his throat as he regained his balance.

“I’m clapping on the inside,” he promised, hands holding onto the railing for dear life, “Just imagine I’m clapping, okay?”

“I can do that.” Lucio said, skating over and placing a hand on Baptiste’s arm. “You wanna head on out?”

“Are you done?” Baptiste asked cautiously, unsure of what answer he was supposed to give.

“Yeah, I had my fun,” Lucio told him, holding a hand out for him to take. “I’ll guide you, Baptiste, just trust me.”

Jean took his hand, reluctantly peeling his other off of the rail when Lucio asked for it. Then Lucio began skating backwards, slowly pulling Baptiste towards the exit step. He casually hummed along with the next tune that played, one that he recognized as Lena Oxton’s second big hit, _Pulse_.

After a minute, Lucio was at the exit. He stepped on up, helping brace Baptiste as he followed him and leading him to the bench. Lucio tip-toed over to the locker and returned to the bench with their shoes.

“That wasn’t too bad,” Baptiste admitted as he unlaced his skates, “At least I didn’t look like a _total_ idiot.”

“You were great,” Lucio assured him, doing the same. It wasn’t before long that they were turning in the skates and walking around Rockefeller Center once more.

Lucio was admiring the beautiful window displays along the road when Baptiste asked him a question.

“How long are you here in New York for, Lu?”

Lucio’s eyes traveled north as he mentally pulled up his schedule. “Tonight, tomorrow, the next day,” he counted the days on his fingers as he spoke, “the day after that, the next morning’ll be free, but I’ll have to spend the night getting ready for an early flight the next day.”

Jean stood there silently, trying to follow along with Lucio’s rambling. “So three and a half, plus tonight.” he said, eyes returning to the beautifully intricate display in the window, “That’s not long at all, is it?”

“Not really,“ Lucio had to agree. The time he had in New York was short, and it was flying by far too quickly.

“Where were you planning on sleeping tonight?” he asked quietly. “It’s getting late, sunshine.”

“Oh, um,” the question caught him off-guard. It shouldn’t have. He should obviously be going back to his room after he picked up his things from Jean-Baptiste’s.

“I was wondering if you would like to spend the night again?” he asked, the bright street lights shining all around them, small powdery flurries beginning to fall around them. “Or I could escort you back to your hotel, if you would rather-”

“You wouldn’t mind me staying?” Lucio asked, “Because I would love to, but I don’t want to inconvenience you, Jean.”

“If it was an inconvenience, I wouldn’t offer, but I like you, Lu. I like you a lot,” Jean told him, “I don’t work until the afternoon tomorrow, so it wouldn’t be a problem at all, if that’s your concern. I just… want to make the most of every minute we have.”

_I like you a lot,_ he had said. Did he mean that? Did he really? Oh, God, Lucio hoped he did. Did he mean that he _liked_ him or _like liked_ him? He didn’t want to push his luck...

As he lingered on that phrase, Jean’s plea from the club echoed in his head too.

_Please stay._

Lucio knew what his answer was going to be. Jean may think of him as sunshine, but it was really Baptiste that was lighting up his world. Every second he could take from Jean, he would, and spending the night would give them both that closeness they were craving.

“I’d love to stay the night... The couch so comfortable you’re looking for an excuse to sleep on it?” Lucio joked, playfully elbowing Jean’s arm.

“It’s not bad. I’ve slept on it before.” Baptiste said with a shrug, “But we could share the bed. It’s big enough. I don’t snore, I’m a quiet sleeper, I’ve been told. Can keep to my side of it. I don’t hog blankets and I wouldn’t cause any problems if shared... If you wanted to, I mean.”

At first, Lucio didn’t understand why Baptiste was trying to sell himself like a pup at an adoption drive, promising to not make a mess on the bed or steal the covers. Then he realized that Jean was sincerely asking if they could share the bed…

He wanted them to sleep together.

Oh.

_Oh._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Manje kwit pa gen met. (Haitian Creole)  
> Translation: Cooked food has no owner.  
> Meaning: Once cooked, food belongs to everyone.  
> \-----
> 
> Kudos, comments, and feedback are always super appreciated!
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3
> 
> Questions, comments, or concerns? Hit me up on here or on my Twitter: https://twitter.com/KittenzCaboodle


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Chapter warnings  
> Kind of a Sex Scene near the end  
> Anxiety
> 
> Happy reading! <3

They had walked back to the apartment not long after that, with Baptiste offering to buy them some dinner if Lucio wanted.

“We could. I’ve also got food in the fridge. Whatever you want,” Jean had said as they neared his apartment building, “We just need to get some meat on those bones of yours to keep you warm.”

He then paused and frowned. “Oh my God, I’m turning into my grandmother.”

“Your grandma sounds pretty cool then,” Lucio had told him, “I mean, if you keep cooking the way you do, it’s definitely gonna put meat on my bones. My diet’s in peril this trip, that’s for sure.”

That seemed to grab Baptiste’s attention. “What kind of diet are you on?” he asked. “Is there a dietary guideline I should be aware of when it comes to dinner plans?”

“Nah. Don’t worry about it. This’ll be a cheat week for me,” Lucio assured him.

“So it’s not a necessary dietary change, like lactose-intolerance or needing to adhere to a low-FODMAP diet?”

“A what?”

“FODMAPs are carbs that are known for triggering bloating, gas, and stomach pain in some people. People who have IBS can benefit from avoiding them.” he explained as he paused on the steps up to his apartment.

“It’s not like that,” Lucio said, “I just have to keep in shape. It’s like part of my job ‘cept I’m on vacation this week.”

“Oh? Part of your job?” Jean said, wondering aloud as he looked Lucio up and down, “Well, you’ve been doing an excellent job keeping in shape from what I’ve seen of you.”

He opened the door to his building and paused. "Assuming that you're not overly indulging in alcohol nightly, that is." he added as he held the door open for Lucio.

"That was just a one time thing, pinky promise," Lucio said as he stepped inside and eyed the stairs in front of him. "What floor are you on again?"

"The fourth," he said, laughing at Lucio's playful groan. "I can carry you back up it again tonight too, I suppose."

"Back up it?" Lucio asked, already walking up the first few steps.

"Do you think I made you walk up four flights of stairs last night when you could barely stand?" Jean asked. "I carried you. It was easy. I could do it again if you wanted."

"No, no, Jean, Baptiste, man, I can walk tonight." Lucio waved him off, embarrassed, "What'cha thinking about for dinner?"

"More griot, some rice and beans, and I was thinking about making some honey baby carrots," he said, throwing the idea out to Lucio as they climbed the stairs, "and either some baked parmesan zucchini or parmesan zucchini and corn."

Lucio listened to his list. "You like zucchini, I take it?" he asked.

"I bought it to try to make zucchini bread but didn't do it," Baptiste admitted. "It needs to be eaten soon and those are the two recipes I know."

"Both sound great."

"Noted." Baptiste said chipperly.

Soon they were at the door, with Baptiste unlocking his apartment, idly noting how much easier it was to do with two hands. Lucio’s face grew flush at the comment. 

Being carried around by Baptiste sounded both nice and embarrassing at the same time. And alas, while drunk Lucio won the prize, he was unable to remember it, and sober Lucio lacked the courage to even hint at ever trying it again.

“Is there anything I can do to help with dinner?” he asked as he shedded his coat.

“There’s not a lot of room in the kitchen,” Baptiste looked his way, unzipping his coat after placing his fanny pack on the counter,“Who am I kidding? There’s room for you. First thing you can do, um, please hang the coats up.”

“In your room?”

“That closet, yeah. Mind the door. It’s tricky,” Baptiste confirmed as he stepped into the kitchen and began washing his hands, “I’ll think about divisions of labor once you return.”

Lucio grabbed the coats and walked down the hall, pulling the door partially shut behind him. He cautiously touched the closet door, trying to figure out what made it tricky, but found nothing. He wasn’t convinced. 

Slowly he stepped towards the closet, reaching for the hangers inside, but then he understood what Baptiste meant. The closet door was half as wide as the opening and stuck on a slide track. The door had to be blocking either the left or right side of the closet at all times. That was tricky, but doable.

He had to step into the closet, pressing himself against the clothes as he unhooked two empty hangers from the rack. The scent of Baptiste’s cologne hung heavily on the shirts, some more than others, and Jesus, it was nice.

Even if the scent was lingering on a light pink Hawaiin shirt decorated with palm trees and flamingos, it was still nice. 

His eyes casually roamed over the assortment of clothes in the closet. There was an overabundance of Hawaiian shirts, a clear staple in his wardrobe, along with some more neutral basic items, like white tees, tanks, and thermals. Jeans and sweatpants were folded in a lower shelf on the left, with shoes neatly arranged in a shelf on the right. 

His eyes returned to the shirts hanging, skimming along the items on the right half of the pole. There were a few graphic shirts, mostly band tees - not one of Lucio’s unfortunately - a shirt that had three wolves howling at the moon, and a black t-shirt that just had “imagine the worst possible outcome” written on the front in a bold, white font, and a “now avoid that” on the back.

Behind that, a suit hung in a clear garment bag. It was a beautiful burgundy suit, with both the jacket and the pants shaded that deep, rich color.

Of course, Baptiste didn’t have a normal black suit. That wasn’t him.

Lucio would have stopped there, but a bright pop of color behind the bag caught his interest, and he pulled the dusty bag forward enough to look behind it.

There was yet another Hawaiian print shirt, but it was different. It didn’t have buttons and had a pocket in the front along the bottom of the shirt, with a stethoscope tucked inside the pocket. The dark blue and sea-foam green shirts, paired with matching pants, behind it were what clued him in.

Those were scrubs. Baptiste had his old scrubs hanging in the back of his closet, out of sight and stuffed behind a rarely used suit.

There were a few different scrubs, the Hawaiian one, one with dinosaurs on it, a pink one with puppies from a kids tv show that had aired a few years ago, The Bark Brigade, one with Pinnie-the-Wooh, a red and yellow bear, with some daisies, one that looked like that pattern on all the 90s water cups, the blue and purple squiggle that had long since faded into obscurity, and one with cartoon doodles of things you would see in space, complete with a ufo and alien, and one that started orange but had ombre’d into purple by the bottom of the shirt.

Lucio felt dirty as he looked at the shirts, as if he had just uncovered a secret that was never meant to be seen. Jean hadn’t hidden this part of his past from him, at least Lucio was aware that he _had_ been a nurse at some point, but he clearly didn’t want to talk about it. 

Lucio made sure to leave everything the way he had found it, shifting the clothing back the way it had been, and made a quick trip to the bathroom so that he could chill out by the time that he was heading back out. Guilt sat in his stomach, heavy as a stone.

Baptiste spared a glance his way as he heard Lucio coming back down the hall. A faint tune was playing, calm techno vibes, with Jean apparently having picked out a cd while Lucio had been occupied.

"Have you washed your hands yet?" he asked as he finished washing the zucchini in the sink.

“Yeah. Just did.”

“For thirty seconds?”

“...I wasn’t counting.”

“Wash them again, please,” Baptiste said as he carried the now clean zucchini away from the sink and placed them on a cutting board, “Few people embrace proper hand washing protocol and considering we’ve been wandering around New York all day, it couldn’t hurt.”

“Okay, and I’ll count this time too,” Lucio promised, “Just for you.”

“You could sing a song. Happy Birthday is the proper length,” Baptiste told him, “My personal go-to is Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.”

He then began to quietly sing said song as Lucio flicked on the faucet, his voice low and smooth, giving Lucio some help with his timing. Lucio couldn’t help but think that, if everyone had a Baptiste singing while they washed their hands, disease could very well be eradicated.

He dried his hands on the kitchen towel hanging by the sink. Baptiste had laid out all their ingredients and offered Lucio a choice.

“Do you want to handle the stove top dishes or chopping duty?”

“Chopping.” Lucio said. Cutting things was straight forward. Knife go up, knife go down. Simple as that.

“Cube the zucchini, please,” Baptiste said, ripping open a bag of baby carrots and adding some brown sugar to a pan on the stove. “Small cubes. Watch your fingers. The knives aren’t the sharpest at the moment, so you’re going to have to use some force.”

Luckily Lucio had plenty of practice when it came to chopping up vegetables. It was one of the few consistent snacks he was allowed to have laying around his place. Chopping up veggies was easy.

Baptiste had thrown some brown sugar into the pan, as well as some herbs and carrots and the sweet scent in the air was delicious. Combined with the scent of the pork griot roasting in the pan, simmering in its tangy marinade, the kitchen was making his mouth water.

He cubed up two zucchinis and Jean stopped him as he started the third, asking for quarters instead of cubes, and Lucio obliged him. Baptiste took the cubed zucchini, added some corn, and roasted it in some oil on the stovetop, babysitting three dishes. After following his instructions, Lucio had the parmesan covered zucchini roasting in the oven. 

“I think you just really wanted me to eat your zucchini, Jean,” Lucio teased, pulling the tray out of the oven. “Is that all this is? Trying to get me to eat your zucchini?”

“I don’t know if that’s a dignified question,” Baptiste said with a laugh, looking back at Lucio over his shoulder, “So I’m not going to dignify it with an answer.”

Lucio held the tray tightly as he tried to figure out what Jean meant, and then realized what it could have sounded like he was saying. 

Wait.

Shit. 

Go back, go back! Abort conversation!

It wasn’t too long after that unfortunate exchange they were sitting down to eat their hot, freshly cooked dinner together.

“I suppose now comes the point where we talk to each other and learn things about the other, yes?” Baptiste said as he began to eat, “Though, I have been out of the game for a long time so things may have changed since then and maybe people don’t do that anymore.”

“Some people do,” Lucio told him. At least they did on TV sometimes.

“Are you one of them, Lu?”

“I can be.” Lucio said. “Ask away.” 

He couldn’t answer every question, probably, without revealing that he was Lucio and not just Lu, but he would try.

“So what brought you to New York before this trip?” Baptiste asked, “Visiting family?”

“Uh, no, it was… work,” Lucio answered, “My family wasn’t from here. I was born in Rio.”

“Rio de Janeiro?”

“Yeah, grew up in a favela.” Lucio said, “Not the nicest or quietest place, but it was home, you know?”

“Ah. I get that.” Baptiste said, “How did you end up here in the states?”

“A boarding school opened up when I was seven and my parents enrolled me. It was a strict place, but they had good art and sport programs,” he said, remembering his time at Vishkar Academy, “I went to that school for ten years and immigrated to America when I was twenty-one on a work visa and established permanent residency soon after that.”

“Your folks still in Rio?”

“Uh, no.” Lucio’s fork paused. “They… They’re dead. Parents were killed instantly in a car accident when I was almost twelve. They didn’t have any family left either.”

Baptiste’s fork paused mid-air and it slowly returned to his plate. “I am so sorry,” he said apologetically. “I shouldn’t have pried.”

“It’s okay. I’ve managed,” Lucio tried to assure him. “It was hard and the woman they had picked as my Godmother had a falling out with my mom three years prior and basically just paid my school fees, which I appreciate, but she didn’t want anything to do with me, but I made it.”  
  
“So you grew up in a boarding school?” Jean said, “That sounds… dull. Was it?”

“It wasn’t that bad. We had free-time to spend how we wanted, when we had it. Meals were taken care of. Classes were taught.” Lucio said, “It was a cutthroat environment though. Lots of pressure.”

“Cutthroat? With schoolchildren?” Baptiste’s eyes widened as his lips pursed in thought, “What kind of pressure?”

“The school was selective about who stayed enrolled. Extracurriculars were mandatory and you needed to always be improving and have good grades to stay. They tested us every quarter in front of a panel. Kids got cut all the time, they only wanted the best. Hard to make friends that way.” Lucio said with an awkward laugh and a shrug. “I worked really hard to make sure I didn’t get kicked out because I don’t think I would have had anywhere to live if I did. Crammed a lot of math and stuff, which I don’t even remember. English was a good class, I liked that teacher. Everything at that school was all pass or fail all the time.”

“Pass or fail on everything, huh? Um...” Baptiste looked like he was struggling for a moment. “What were your specialties?”

“Sports and music.” Lucio answered, “I was on the hockey team until my folks pulled me off, because they didn’t want me to get hurt, and soccer for a while too. The older I got, the more I focused on music, to make sure I could always impress the panel and stay.”

“So you’re not an Olympian in training?” Jean asked.

“...What?”

“I thought that with how well you skate and your physique and your talk of staying in shape and dieting being part of your job that maybe you were a speedskater or an ice dancer or-?”

Lucio laughed, mostly in surprise, at Jean’s question. “No. No, I’ve just spent my whole life skating.” Lucio said.

“So ice skating isn’t part of your job?” Jean mused aloud, “What do you do for a living?”

There it was. He knew that question had been coming, it had to be, and thankfully he had an answer planned. It was a true answer, lying was too much of a struggle to keep up with, but it didn’t say more than he had to.

“I work kinda in the entertainment industry.” he said. It was how Satya was always referring to her job as; a manager in the entertainment industry. “So is your family here?”

“...No.” Baptiste said, “And I always thought my situation complicated, but it’s nothing like yours.”

“Things can be complicated differently. It’s not a competition.” Lucio said with a shrug.

Baptiste didn’t reply at first, instead eating his dinner. After a few bites, he finally spoke. “Do you ever miss Rio?”

“Yeah. It was home and I wish I remembered it better. Sometimes I can remember the bright buildings and the music, the sound of kids playing, the smells and noise from the market, the stars in the night sky, and how it felt like an endless maze with something new around every corner.” Lucio recollected, “but sometimes all I remember are white walls, tight uniforms, and lessons and lectures and crying myself to sleep more nights than I care to admit.”

He straightened up in the seat, realizing how depressing he had gotten, so he continued in an effort to lighten the mood. “I send presents down there every December.”

“You sponsor a kid?” Baptiste asked with a smile, relaxing against the back of his chair.

“Yeah, kinda.” More like a hundred kids, but there was no reason to correct Jean. That would just sound like bragging, and he didn’t do it for bragging rights. He just wanted to give kids the Christmases he never got. “Send music stuff and sports stuff down there like skates or balls or flutes or whatever, it’s a lil’ different every time.”

“That’s very kind of you. You’ve got a good heart.” Baptiste said, “What do you do for fun?”

Skate and music stuff,” Lucio answered, his brows tightening together, “but that’s also kind of my job too.”

“Uh, okay,” Baptiste scooped a large spoonful of the zucchini and corn, “...That’s not related to work?”

“That’s not? Okay, um…” Lucio looked down at the counter as he thought about it, “Uh...I- no.... okay, ah...I...there’s...uhm…”

He blew out a breath, his mind racing as he tried to think of something, anything, he did that was fun and not related to work. He was drawing a blank and beginning to panic. This was such an easy question, he couldn’t fail it.

“...I eat sometimes.” he said, thinking about all the food he got to try. But that was also because of work, eating take-out and pre-approved meals because he was too busy to come up with anything else.

Baptiste nodded slowly in thought. “I should hope you do,” he finally said.

“And, oh! I workout by doing Capoeira.” he said, watching as Baptiste mouthed the word curiously, “it’s like dance, acrobatics, and music had a threesome and gave birth to a martial art. I’m still trying to get the moves down right, but I like to practice early in the morning sometimes when I can be by myself.”

“That sounds both fascinating and complicated, I’ll have to check it out.” Baptiste said, “So… does your aunt figure live in New York?”

“No, she’s back in California,” Lucio said, pulling out his phone. “Lemme shoot her a text real quick and I’ll show you a picture of her.”

Lucio tapped on his phone, noting his half-dead battery, and quickly navigated to the messaging app and began typing on the digital keyboard.

- _In for the night. Just saying hi._

And then he pulled up his photo gallery. He held the phone out of Jean’s sight as he scrolled through the photos, looking for one that didn’t have any damning details on it. He wasn’t quite ready to stop being Lu yet.

He found one where she let him take a selfie with her after he had spent the day skating around a local ice rink, making sure that he would be steady on his feet as he did the opener for the LA Monarchs hockey team.

She had brought her laptop to the rink and sat on a bench, bundled up in a fitted coat and a scarf wrapped around her neck, mittens on her hands and a thermos of tea by her side. Lucio had skated over to the low wall she sat behind and she had let him take a selfie of the two of them, her barely upturned lips contrasting Lucio’s wide smile.

“That’s her,” he said as he finally let Jean see the phone. “My aunt, older sister, coworker, supervisor, all in one.”

“I see I’m not the only one you drag to ice rinks,” Jean teased, “She’s a beautiful woman, Lu.”

“Bossy too.” Lucio laughed, “I’m kidding. She’s done way too much for me, I ask too much of her. It’s probably a good thing that she’s getting a break.”

“Everyone needs a break every now and then, there’s no harm in that.”

Lucio hesitated, unsure if he believed Jean. “You think so?”

Baptiste glanced at the window, the dark night artificially illuminated by the fluorescent lights of the city. “...I hope so.”

The conversation stilled as they finished up dinner, both focusing on the delicious food in front of them. Once they were done, Jean began to pick up the plates, but Lucio stopped him.

“I’ll wash the dishes,” he told Jean, “It’s the least I can do.”

Baptiste looked at him suspiciously. “You’re a guest-”

“But I want to.” Lucio assured him. “Lemme do it. Please?”

“You’re pleading to wash the dishes…?” Jean let go of the plate, holding his hands up in mock surrender, “You’re an odd one. Go ahead. I won’t stop you. I’ll just be over here, sending a quick text to Olivia.”

Lucio collected the plates, took them to the sink, and began scrubbing at the batch in his hands. It was easy to clean them and the dishes that had been soaking in the sink were just as simple. The pans had cooled and he wiped them clean, and then got to the utensils.

Washing dishes was nice. It didn’t take much thought or effort and the sound of running water was soothing. It was kinda zen and Lucio was digging it.

His hands were busy washing the knife he had used to chop vegetables, being mindful of the sharp blade, his concentration focused. He didn’t hear Jean walk up behind him and the motion of the man leaning back against the counter and swiping up a wet plate to dry startled him more than it should have.

The knife slipped from his damp, soapy fingers, and God help him, his first instinct was to catch it. His reaction time was stellar, it always had been, and as he stood there with his hand wrapped around the blade, a fresh cut stinging, he was regretting how fast his reflexes were versus his brain.

He dropped the knife again, this time on purpose, letting it finish the rest of its short fall into the sink. He sucked in a breath and shook his hand, trying to get the stinging to go away.

“ _Merda,”_ he murmured under his breath.

Baptiste noticed his pain instantly. “Did you hurt yourself?” he asked.

He saw the crimson on Lucio’s skin and immediately grabbed his hand. “Let me see it,” he said calmly.

Lucio opened up his hand, but Baptiste stopped him. “Do you faint at the sight of blood?” he asked. “Please look away if you do.”

“I don’t. Seen plenty of blood thanks to sports.” Lucio said nervously.

“You’re a tough one, Lu. Got a fighter spirit, don’t you?” he said as he pulled back Lucio’s fingers and looked at his hand. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Lucio asked, heart jumping into his throat, “ _Oh?_ Is it bad? _”_

“Oh, no, not at all. I’ve seen much worse. You nicked all of your fingers, but it’s not deep, you can’t see muscle or bone, and the cuts are pretty straight. The fingers are all still attached.” he clarified calmly. “Thankfully you didn’t give the knife a firm handshake, you let it go as quickly as you caught it. Can you move all of your fingers still?”

Lucio wiggled his fingers and was happy to find no issue. “Yeah, no problems there.”

“Good, good, glad to hear.” he closely inspected the hand, his dark eyes focusing intensely on the cuts, “Cut looks clean. No debris embedded. Any numbness or tingling anywhere on the arm?”

“No.

“Good! This looks like a quick bandaging on some small cuts, no stitches necessary.” Baptiste assured him. “Give me a moment.”

He stepped past Lucio and opened up one of the cupboards. Then he pulled out a first aid kit - of course he had one - slid it onto the counter, just catching his phone that he nearly knocked down off it, and opened it up. He began to pull items out of the well-organized kit. 

“Wash your hands, please.” he said. “With soap. You want to clean it now while it's bleeding so you don’t slow down the healing process by scrubbing off the newly forming scabs. In a perfect scenario, these’ll all be healed up in less than a week.”

Lucio washed his hands in some warm water, listening as Baptiste hummed a quiet little tune. Then, a minute later, Baptiste was patting his hand dry with a towel, the gentle ministrations of the clean cotton combined with the reassuring pats and squeezes Baptiste was giving his hand were going to make Lucio explode.

The contact felt so nice. So, so very nice.

Then Baptiste was applying some antibacterial goo and wrapping a small bandage around the cut on each finger, taking his sweet, sweet time. As he finished bandaging the last finger, he pulled the hand up towards his face, inspecting closely.

“What’s up?” Lucio asked watching his face take on a look of intense concentration.

“I’m double-checking everything before I sign off on the treatment,” he explained, “And this now gets my seal of approval.”

What happened next happened in slow motion. Jean’s head dipped as his hand cradled Lucio’s injured one. His eyes flicked to Lucio’s face, as if he was trying to gauge something, but Lucio didn’t realize what. At least he didn’t until Baptiste’s lips were softly planted onto his palm. He kissed up along his hand once, twice, three times, and Lucio’s head felt like static.

Baptiste then pulled away and sent Lucio a flirtatious smile that sent his heart racing as Lucio remembered their earlier conversation.

They were sharing a bed tonight. Hadn’t they decided that?

Tonight was going to be the biggest test between them. One that he couldn’t fail.

The rest of the night passed by in a blur as he began to panic. He remembered Baptiste had a spare toothbrush for him to use, and he replied to whatever Lucio said with a joke about how while he didn’t go to teeth school, even he knew brushing was important.

Then they were standing by the bed. Baptiste was unbuttoning his shirt, his thick, muscular chest revealed to the world once more. Jean stepped towards him, one hand tilting Lucio’s head up as his other wrapped around his back.

Had they been talking about this? They must have been. Baptiste wouldn’t have been touching him otherwise. 

He vaguely remembered being propositioned properly while getting ready for bed, with Baptiste flirting ever-so-charmingly. Lucio must have said yes when he asked. What reason would he have had to say no? 

This was Jean-Baptiste Augustin, the most beautiful and nicest guy he had ever laid his eyes on. Why the hell would he say no?

So he didn’t. He couldn’t. Jean was standing there, waiting for permission to continue, like the gentleman he always was.

So Lucio said yes.

Their lips met. They were soft and smooth and he tasted minty. A hand squeezed his backside, kneading the muscles there. The other hand threaded through his hair, tugging lightly at the long strands. He let himself groan as he was manhandled. This is what he had wanted.

This is what he had wanted.

This is what he had wanted.

...Why didn’t it feel right?

The hand moved from his ass and grabbed the hem of his shirt. Their kiss broke briefly as it was tugged over his head and was thrown somewhere behind them, who cared where? The cold night air made the sweat on his skin prickle.

Baptiste picked him up and put the two of them on the bed, his weight resting on top of Lucio as they continued to kiss. A hand caressed his cheek and then pinned down a wrist. Their crotches grinded and Jean’s head dipped, lips latching onto his throat. Another hand looped under Lucio’s leg, pulling it up out of the way, letting their bodies press together tighter.

Lucio’s eyes shut tight. His breathing grew heavy and frantic as he both tried to ignore and absorb the play-by-play happening to him.

He hadn’t been ready to go this far. He hadn’t done this with anyone else before. He had been too busy all his life, surviving and grinding his way to the top to even think about it. He had needed just a little bit longer to get himself mentally ready to do what he wanted with Jean, at least that’s what he told himself.

But he had no choice. It was the only way.

If he failed he would be left with nothing and that would be worse.

Everything was too hot and too heavy, too fast and too slow, and too there considering how far away he felt. He threw an arm over his eyes, praying for the peace of mind to manage.

Everything was too much. Far, _far too much_

And then it all just…

Stopped.

“Hey,” Baptiste was saying, “Shh, shh, it’s okay. Look at me, Lu. Can you look at me? You’re okay.”

The arm was removed from his eyes and as he looked up into Baptiste’s concerned ones, he realized his face felt damp. He had been crying.

Oh, _shit_ , he had been crying.

“Breathe in with me, okay? In….” Baptiste began to lead him in some breathing exercises, his hand moving up and down to lead the slow pace, all of which was made more awkward considering that he was still shirtless and leaning over Lucio, “...out… Like that. Again. In...”

It wasn’t until he was trying to follow along with Jean that he realized how quickly his chest had been rising and falling. He had been hyperventilating.

Oh, _**shit** , _he had been hyperventilating.

The tight feeling in his throat loosened as his breathing hit a more reasonable pace. Once he had been brought back down, his body sagged tiredly into the bed. They had done nothing, but he was exhausted. That was not a good look.

Baptiste’s eyes met his once more and he must have liked what he saw this time, because he pushed himself off of Lucio and sat down next to him, crossing his legs.

“How are we feeling now?” he asked, “Be honest. Tell me anything you feel. Are we responding to trauma? Does something hurt? Did I hurt you?”

“No. No. No no no no.” why did he feel so out of breath? “I- I don’t know. I just.. I don’t know.”

“You just what, Lu?” Baptiste asked quietly, “You can tell me.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. This should have been easy.” he rambled, his anxiety spiking faster than a startled hedgehog, “How did I mess this up? How did I fail so bad?”

“Whoa, whoa, hey. Hold on,” Jean said as he motioned for Lucio to stop talking. “You didn’t fail anything.”

“Then what do you call this? What do you call **_me_ **?” Lucio asked, smacking a hand against his own chest. “This wasn’t exactly a job well done-”

“But we’re here and we’re together.” Baptiste offered, and then sighed. “You told me how you grew up in that school. That couldn’t have been easy, living with all that stress as you grew.”

“I managed-”

“Because you’re strong. You’re a fighter, Lu, that’s how you made it. You don’t have to keep fighting anymore,” Jean said. He paused, hand rubbing at his own arm before he spoke. “Did you know that stress can be addictive?”

Lucio’s eyes widened in surprise and confusion and Jean took that as a sign to continue talking. 

“It releases dopamine in the brain. Makes you feel good. Gives you adrenaline, a rush that encourages people to seek out and produce the chemical, and over time requires more and more stress to fuel the addiction. Deadlines, crunch work, perfectionism, among other things.” he explained. “And, while I abhor ever throwing out diagnoses without the proper tests, I can’t help but wonder if spending so many of your formative years in an stressful, pressure-filled institution made you an addict, creating a dependency that grew to be normal for your developing brain that you’re subconsciously still trying to fill.”

Lucio listened as he talked about dope memes and chemicals and psychoanalysises, and then sighed as he relaxed into the bed.

“...Olivia’s right,” Lucio said, looking up at him with a tired smile, “You are a nerd.”

Jean smiled in response, playfully rolling his eyes and shaking his head. He lay down in the bed, resting his head on a pillow. 

“Have you ever considered trying yoga? Learning to relax could be beneficial for you,” he said, turning his head Lucio’s way. “None of that will matter, though, until you change your mindset.”

“My mindset?”

“Life’s not all pass or fail, Lu.” Jean said, “Sometimes it’s enough to be just _okay._ To do something badly. To do something later. To do just enough. To know that _you_ are enough.”

Lucio felt his eyes start to grow damp again as Jean spoke, the words affecting him in ways he hadn’t expected. Why was he being such a baby? He couldn’t start crying again.

“Besides, failing’s not the end of the world. At least it means that you tried.” Jean finished with a one-shouldered shrug. “So, tell me, do you want to just go to sleep tonight, Lu?”

Lucio hesitated, so Baptiste made him a promise. “There’s no wrong answer here, Lu,” Baptiste said, “The only wrong answer you could give me is to lie.”

“I want to stop and go to sleep tonight.” Lucio finally admitted, “So maybe... we continue tomorrow?”

“We’ll talk about it again tomorrow.” Baptiste agreed, “Do you want me to sleep on the couch?”

“No.” Lucio answered this question quickly. “Stay. Please. I want you to stay here.”

“Okay, I can do that for you,” he replied as he tugged the blankets over himself, “Goodnight, Lu.”

“Goodnight, Baptiste.” Lucio replied as Jean clicked off the lamp on the bedside table.

Jean fell asleep easily that night. Lucio lay awake, staring at the ceiling and refusing to look at the clock.

Baptiste’s words were looping in his head, making Lucio think back to his childhood. Vishkar Academy had been where he spent too many of his days growing up. The whole point of the Academy was to find talent to invest in which is why they demanded perfection. It was one of the few opportunities offered in Lucio’s poor neck of the woods, one of the few paths into becoming a somebody.

The pressure had been intense, but he had learned to manage it. That was how his childhood was spent, learning how to appease adult expectations and navigate a dog-eat-dog world in which children had been pitted against peers for limited slots to the only way to have a future.

Even once he graduated, he was enlisted in what could only be described as a Vishkar star bootcamp, where you had to find a way to stand out enough to get the attention of the investors and convince them you were worth their time and money and that you wouldn’t disappoint them. He had clawed his way through the camp, following his dream of being a musician, watching out for opportunists and backstabbers, people who would trip you to get ahead. 

It was no different than the school. He had trained for this. It was all he had ever known.

It was all that he did know, even now, years later.

And now, thinking back, thinking about things he would say or do to survive, he couldn't help but wonder about himself.

“Am I an adult who never had a childhood?” he asked the night quietly, “Or am I a kid that never grew up?”

His only reply came in the form of Baptiste’s quiet breathing as he slept unaware of the conundrum taking place on the other half of the bed. While peaceful, it didn’t help much.

“Life’s not pass or fail,” he tried out the words Jean had uttered, seeing how they tasted on his lips. It felt like such a bold statement, mocking everything he had ever known. “Life’s not pass or fail.”

It was daring. Gutsy. Foreign. Exciting. 

And he wanted more. 

He wanted to live his life without second-guessing himself, without worrying what the panel of judges in his mind would score him on everything he did. He wanted to push it all aside and break those chains.

And he was going to try to. It wouldn’t be perfect, but that was okay. Life’s not pass or fail.

He was going to live life with some freedom.

It was time to live Con Alcuna Licenza.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merda (Portuguese)  
> Translation: Shit  
> \------  
> Kudos, comments, and feedback are always super appreciated!
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3
> 
> Questions, comments, or concerns? Hit me up on here or on my Twitter: https://twitter.com/KittenzCaboodle


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Chapter warnings  
> None
> 
> Happy reading! <3

Lucio had no idea when he actually fell asleep that night. There had been so much tossing and turning that he found it hard to believe that he could have even fallen asleep.

But somehow he found himself having a dream where he was laying in bed and he could hear Jean sweet-talking him.

“Come on, baby,” he was saying, “You can do it. Come on. Do it for me. I know you can.”

He could picture Jean’s face as he said the words, a slight smile on his lips and his beautiful eyes intense, but something about this scenario was off-enough to wake him up.

Why did it sound like Baptiste was so far away?

His eyes finally opened up and he found himself lying alone in bed, splayed between both his and Jean’s side of the mattress. Looking around the room confused, he heard Jean speak again.

“You’re so close, sweetie. You’ve done so much for me. Can we go again?” he was crooning, his voice getting louder as Lucio opened up the bedroom door. “Ah, come on. Don’t be like that. Thaaaat’s it. There we go...”

Then he heard the sound of a small appliance motor come to life. It turned out to be a blender, Lucio discovered as he stepped around the corner, tugging Jean’s loaned hoodie back over his head. Some green liquid swirled around, the motor sounding strained all the while.

“Come on, sweetheart, one more time,” Jean was saying to the blender, “You’re doing a good job.”

He pulsed the blender a few times until he was satisfied with the way the mixture looked. Lucio may have stared at his shirtless torso, damp with sweat, and strong arms for longer than he would have liked to admit,

"Atta' girl," he murmured as he unscrewed the lid, "Thank you for giving me another day."

It was then that he noticed Lucio approaching the kitchen. "Oh, good morning," he said, as he twisted the lid off. "I hope I didn't wake you."

"Nah, I was already awake.” Lucio assured him, resting his elbows on the counter, “Do you normally flirt with your blender or did I just walk in on something private?”

Jean laughed, a beautiful throaty sound. “Oh, so you heard _everything_ ,” he said, patting the blender base, “This girl here is from my college days. She’s got a number of years on her. Hasn’t been the same since I accidentally blended my phone a few years back. I have to negotiate with her most days, flatter and sweet-talk her, try to keep her going until Christmas sales.”

“Got one in mind you’re wanting to buy?”

“I haven’t looked into it that much yet. I have _thought_ about looking into it, but haven’t yet.” Baptiste admitted, straining the liquid with a coffee filter, “It’s gotta have a strong motor. My green juice - a blended vegetable drink - lately has been more like a green chunky soup and doesn’t give me as much liquid when I strain it. And if I could get something in a fun color, that would be nice too.”

“Oh, I’m familiar with green juice,” Lucio told him. It was part of his dietary fair when he was at work. “You make your own? Does it taste better that way?”

“Well, it’s either seven bucks for one drink or a small pitcherful, and I only drink a shotglass’s worth in the morning so it lasts me a while.” Baptiste said as he filled up said pitcher,“And it’s a bit more palatable because I follow the advice of the brilliant Mary Poppins. A spoonful of sugar _does_ help the medicine go down. Sugar stimulates dopamine and activates a ‘reward system’ in the brain and is fine to indulge in controlled doses.”

He couldn’t be too angry with Lucio if he was still talking like a nerd, right? That was friendly nerd talk from Jean. He didn’t seem to be frustrated about how Lucio fai-... about last night.

Baptiste poured himself a shot of green juice and offered it to Lucio. “Care to try some?”

Lucio eyed the green liquid suspiciously before he relented. “Sure,” he said with a shrug, “Why not?”

Baptiste was right, of course. That hint of sweetness made the abundance of vegetables much more palatable. “Okay, you win,” Lucio conceded after he gulped down the drink. “Can I get that recipe too?”

“I’ll add it to the list.” Baptiste promised with a wink, pausing to down his own shot, “What do you want for breakfast? More porridge? Could go for some and some pork myself. Maybe some toast again too.”

“I would never say no to any of those.” Lucio said.

As Baptiste began heating up their breakfast, Lucio’s eyes wandered around the room. Jean’s workout gear was still splayed out on the floor. He had been up long enough to have a semi-vigorous workout and for Lucio to move in on his side of the bed. He also had something simmering on the stove, but Lucio wasn’t sure what.

Jean slid the plate in front of him, a repeat of their last breakfast. Lucio didn’t care. He would eat this every day if he could. Baptiste was right when he said that what he did cook he cooked well. 

“I have to go to work today,” Jean said as he slid the plate in front of Lucio. “I work from this afternoon to at least midnight, maybe later.”

“That’s a long day.” 

“I work longer days so I work fewer ones.” Baptiste replied, “Um, and I’m gonna need to start getting ready soon and finish some things up here before I have to head out…”

Lucio caught on. “I’ll head out as soon as I’m done.” he said with a smile despite how his heart began to race in his chest.

This shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Of course Jean had to get back to his life. Lucio was just a blip on his radar, nothing worth writing home about. Just because Lucio had all the free time in the world right now didn’t mean he had the right to take up all of Baptiste’s.

“Thank you. I hate springing that on you, but I got up later than I usually do.” Baptiste explained. “Besides I’m sure you’ve got some other things you want to see in New York.”

Lucio hummed, deciding not to comment on the latter half of his statement. “You find it hard to get out of bed today?” he teased, “My sleeping face that cute?”

“You did make it difficult to get out of bed,” Jean agreed. “That Capoeira of yours gives you muscles, sunshine. Woke up to you spooning me and, my word, did you want to be the big spoon. It took me a bit to escape.” he smiled as he told the story, clearly enjoying the blush that lit up Lucio’s face, “Remind me to never get in a fight with you, Lu. You would kick my ass.”

Lucio shook his head. “Well, I don’t know about that. You work out-”

“Lu, you did hockey, soccer, and you do martial arts. You had me pinned in your sleep.” Baptiste explained. “All I ever did was track in highschool and only excelled at the high jump, and was barely on an ultimate frisbee team in college before I had to quit due to my busy schedule. I could not beat you in a fight, but I could definitely get away.” he paused. “Unless you were on skates... Then you might catch me. And I think you could still kick my ass on skates.”

His eyes met Lucio’s. “Please don’t kick my ass.” he finished.

“I won’t.” Lucio promised, adding a flirty little, “Not unless you ask me to.”

The conversation lulled into idle prattle, and soon Lucio was rinsing off his plate and returning to the bedroom to find his clothes. Baptiste had said that he could keep the sweatshirt for now - whatever that meant - but the sweatpants had to stay.

He changed and picked up his discarded shirt, exiting the bedroom when he heard Olivia’s voice. Apparently she had decided to drop by again today.

“...so here’s that book you lent me.” she was saying. “It was great.”

“I lent this to you like three months ago, right? I had been looking for this.” Baptiste replied. “What was your favorite part?”

“Oh, gee, that’s difficult. It was all so good.” she said, “I guess the part where the elves stormed the castle and overthrew the ice king. That was epic.”

“That was the last book I lent you… This is a culinary romance novel.” Baptiste sighed, “You didn’t read it, did you?”

“I forgot to.” she admitted.

“And you’re bringing it back now because…?”

“Had it for too long and I found it while cleaning. It was time to bring it back.”

“Cleaning? You?” Baptiste chuckled, his voice louder as Lucio finished up and began walking back towards the kitchen, “Got a date with a pretty lady tonight or something?”

“No. But enough about me…” she said, her elbows planted against the counter and she stood on her tiptoes, getting close to Jean, “So, Notorious B.A.P, how’s your bottom doing?”

This was news to Lucio. “Did you hurt yourself skating?” he asked, making both of the people in the kitchen jump in surprise. “Why didn’t you-”

He was interrupted by the sight of Baptiste simultaneously spitting out and inhaling his drink with a strangled horf sound.

“Yes!” Baptiste was saying as he coughed, his voice both somehow raspy and squeaky, “Yup, yup, yes, hurt… pulled my… bottom’s muscle while skating.” His arm windmilled around and he slapped his own ass, the clapping sound sharp in the otherwise silent room. “...But it’s better now.”

Olivia’s head rested on her arms as she stood bent at the waist, her shoulders shaking as she silently laughed, slowly dying at the situation.

“Well, um, icing it could help, but I’m sure you knew that,” Lucio advised, slapping his pockets one more time and making sure he had everything, “I’m gonna head out now. See you around, Jean?”

“Yes, yeah,” he was still coughing, watching Olivia still dying of laughter, giving Lucio a half-dying wave goodbye of his own, “Catch you later.”

And with that, he was climbing down the stairs to the apartment and greeting the outside world. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and he was crying on the inside.

He should go back to his room. Should he go back to his room? He had all of New York at his fingertips, it would be a waste to just go back to his room.

But if he walked around, where would he go? He didn’t know. So he just began to walk down the street. He spent the morning walking directionless, finding that the open endedness of not having somewhere to be was terrifying.

His life had been built around schedules and tasks. Write the paper, learn the dance, do the interviews, perform the show, and on and on. He had always been on some kind of deadline, his thoughts always about working to the next goal. Having all this time to think wasn’t helping much either.

The possibilities before him were as endless as they were terrifying.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and began to desperately search for something, anything, to do to keep himself busy, his head down as he walked and googled.

_-Events in New York City_

_-Find my location_

_-events near me_

_-things to do near me_

_-things to see near me_

_-ways to keep busy_

Noise from a nearby store had him raising his head and looking around. TVs filled the window and the broadcast had him stopping to watch.

A female reporter was speaking and Lucio vaguely recognized the picture of the dark-haired woman inset to her left.

“ _If you like it, you better put a ring on it. That’s a message that Gérard Lacroix_ _, one of New York City Ballet’s famous performers, took to heart after last night’s performance. As the audience applauded at The Nutcracker’s curtain call, Gérard_ _, still dressed as the title character, proposed to his Clara, Amélie Guillard.”_

The woman was then replaced by video of a large stage, with a long row of dancers taking a bow after a performance, the stage filled with roses. Then a man, _Gérard_ , Lucio assumed, got down on a knee in front of the woman in the picture, a small box in his hands, as he asked her to marry him. Her hands flew to her face, her eyes widened, and she began to cry. Her happy cries of yes, yes, yes! to his proposal was only muffled when she threw her arms around him, burying her face into his neck.

“ _In a love story for the ages, the two have had a long relationship, having performed around the world together. From the Vienna State Opera Hours to the Bolshoi Theatre in Moscow, to the first time they met at the Palais Garnier Opera House in Paris, the pair have danced together for years.” she said, “And now the two of them are looking forward to their next big performance, in front of their family and friends; their wedding dance. I’m Anna Notherwon, and from all of us at OWO news, thanks for tuning in-”_

Despite her thanking him for tuning in, he began to tune out.

 _“If you don’t innovate and create and stay in the news, the world can and will move on,_ ” Satya had told him, “ _There’s too much else going on to wait for you, Lucio. Something new happens everyday. You don’t want to get left behind, or else you might never catch up again.”_

...and if he fell behind, if he fell out of the spotlight, who was he? His whole life had been spent fighting to the top, to finally be in the spotlight. Had it been worth it? Had he ever really had a choice? If Lucio stopped being a star, stopped being adored and was left behind by the world, then what was left of him?

Nothing. 

Nothing at all.

Too much free time to think. Too much free time. He busied himself, walking away and returning to his googling, this time more frantically.

_-ny musum_

_-ny city musem_

_-ny cty foood_

_-nyc food ner me_

_-nyc record sotres_

He looked up from his phone after who knows how long. He was walking by a park now. A park sounded nice and calm. He would go there.

He found an empty bench and sat down, still typing away. He heard children laughing and screaming as they played. Runners kept racing past his chair, families would walk by, businessmen, teens, moms, dads, a melting pot of folks.

Everyone had somewhere to go, somewhere they belonged, people they belonged to, eager to see the person that they loved again.

So who was he? Where did he go? Where did he belong? Was anyone even missing him? Would anyone ever?

Or was he just DJ Lucio, the faceless, replaceable boy wonder? The man doomed to disappear forever once the world left him behind? His life was his work and his work was his life and his life was his work and...Oh. _Porra._

He wanted to live his life Con Alcuna Licenza, with some freedom. He had thought it would be easy to apply but now that he was craving freedom, he was discovering just how small his cage had always been. He was a pound dog who was scared to run around the yard, having spent its life tucked into a safe corner of its cage, contenting itself with the rare bone of acknowledgement tossed its way.

Why had he ever thought that was okay? Why had he ever let himself be treated like that?

Easy. He had been trained that way his whole life. No one had to answer to his treatment if he never thought to question it.

_-dicted to streess_

_-hw t fx life_

_-hw o unfuk uup_

_-was i in reltinshp?_

_-was i dmped?_

_-pnic ttck symtoms_

_-callm dwn hlep_

The last searches were typed with shaking fingers, his chest having gotten tight and his throat closing up as he tried not to cry. His hands were trembling as he tried not to have a breakdown.

Ahaha… _Breakdown._ If only he could perform to that as well as he could have an actual breakdown. If only he could do something right.

Did he call Satya? No. No, she’d be angry. She would tell him to come home. Maybe it was best that he went home. No. That wasn’t his home. He didn’t really have a place to call home. 

California. She would want him to come back to California.

He didn’t have anyone else. It had to be her.

As soon as he closed down his phone’s browser, his phone dinged with a message. He didn’t recognize the number that popped up at the top of his screen, but he clicked it and pulled up the messaging app.

 **-im bored** The message said. Lucio looked at the previous message in the chain. It was the picture of him, Olivia, and Jean at the club sat above the message, and realized who it was texting him. Olivia was texting him. Why?

As soon as he started to even think about a response, another message came through.  
  


- **wyd?  
  
**

 _-siting at a park_ he replied. It was a simple question. He could answer that.

  
\- **which park?  
  
**

Lucio looked around and spotted a sign with the name.

_-tompkins square_

**  
-nice nice nice**

**-having fun?**   
  


_-No. Just sitting. Dont know what else to do. Probaly go back to hotel room.  
  
_

**-thats boring**

**-u like cream cheese n sugar?**

Lucio blinked twice at the message. At the very least he was confused enough to be distracted from his emotional breakdown.

_-yes?_

**-nice k one sec**

A moment later, walking directions to a nearby dessert bar appeared in his messages along with another flurry of messages. Olivia typed as fast as he could even think.  
  


**-do me a favor**

**-bought a cream chz cookiewich from here**

**-n its pick-up only  
  
**

_-am i supposed to be bringing it to you or what?_

**  
-no no no no**

**-im stuck at work n bored**

**-i need u to go n eat it**

**\- n text me how good it is**

**-bc theyre soooo goooood**

**-so i can live vicariously thru u**

**-k?  
  
**

- _wait you didnt have to buy it  
  
_

**-too late**

**-already did**

**-n u better go get it, lulu**

**-dont let it go to waste**

**-tell em ur picking up for**

**-olivia colomar**

**-k?**

  
\- _k_

  
With nothing else to do, Lucio began walking towards the bakery. It was only a three minute walk away from the park. From the looks of it, the line to the front was going to take longer.

As he stood in the line, another message came through.

**  
-i didnt mean to scare u out of baps place**

_  
-you didn’t. He said he needed space to get ready for work so i left_

**  
-agafsjdka**

**-he what???????**

**-wORK????????**

**-HE WORKS AT A BAR THEY CAN LIVE WO HIM FOR A DAY OMG OMG**

**-he still NEVER takes days off i see**

**-hes still got that nurse workcolhliclism**

**-omg hes stupid**

_  
-i dont think going to work makes people stupid_

**  
-it is if its over u**

**-he does like u i swear**

**-texts me bout u**

**-says u r a q t**

**-hes just a dumbutt**

**-always has been**

**-ive got the records to prove it**

**-we can hang l8r if you want**

**-ive got a lot of movies**

**-all obtained legally absolutely definitely**

_  
-for some reason i’m not believing you about the movies_

**  
-no ive got lots i swear**

_  
-that’s not the part im not believing_

**  
-oh**

**-um**

**-ahoy lol**

  
He stifled a quiet laugh as her response came through. He was now at the front of the line and, as soon as the lady in front of him was done, he was giving them Olivia’s name and picking up the order, the cookiewich and a bottle of water. 

He headed outside, bag in tow, and began returning to the park, unsure of where else to go. The park was quiet and it had tables, so it would do.  
  


 **-im eating dinner at teh echo lounge tonight** Olivia had said.

**-dont wanna cook.**

**-want me to beat up bap for u?**

**-smack some sense into him 4 u?**

**-i’ll doooo iiiit**

**-plz tell me to do it**

_  
-u sure like offer to beat people up_

_-thats the first thing you said to me_

_-hey, jean, want me to kick his ass_

**  
-oh!**

**-lol yeah**

**-its how i show affection**

**-learned it from my foster dad**

**-he would also offer to kick assseses for his friends**

_  
-sounds like a swell guy_ Lucio texted as he sat down at a table and unscrewed the water bottle and took a quick sip. He then pulled out the massive cookiewich, decorated with rainbow sprinkles and chocolate chips on the edges, from the bag, placed it on a napkin and snapped a picture of it. He then sent the picture to Olivia. Her reply was near instantaneous.

**  
-yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeesssss!**

**-isnt she so prettyyy?**

**-that looks so goood**

**-what an absolutel unit**

**-omg i want one too**

**-eat the nom**

**-eaaat iiiit**

  
Lucio had to analyze the sandwich and figure out how to get his mouth around it. The chocolate chip cookies themselves were thick and there was a huge mass of sweet cream cheese between them. No matter what he did, unless he ate this perfectly or swallowed it whole, he was gonna make a mess. 

It was fine, though. It wasn’t pass or fail. It was just a cookie and he had been given lots of napkins.

The first bite was heavenly. The cookies were soft and sweet, and the cream cheese was deliciously sticky and sweet. The sprinkles and chocolate chips added a wonderful chew to the goo and it was so good that Lucio ended up slapping his own knee in response, his mouth too busy being glued shut at the moment.

_-this is so good!!!! wow!!!!_

**  
-IKR???**

**-its actually unfair how good it is**

**-like the cookies alone r gr8**

**-n then u add the cream chz**

**-n its like pow!**

**-n then the sprinkles and chocl8**

**-n its like pow! pow!**

**-and beats up ur tastebuds**

**-in a good way ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ**

_  
-ty for getting me this amazing yumwich_

**  
-dont thank me**

**-im using u**

**-pretending thats me eating**

**-mmm mmm its sooo goood**

**-^^^^ thats me eating it btw**

_  
-well, ty 4 the water_

_-the water is helping me a lot_

**  
-lol yeah**

**-if i didnt like you i wouldnt have gotten it**

**-and left u to suffer a slow creamchz death**

**-but we’re friends lu**

**-n friends don’t let friends suffocate on cream chz**

**-akande n i have a quick meeting in a min**

**-so i gotta go**

- **dont eat too fast k?**

**-savor it 4 me**

**-later dude**

_  
-thanks olivia_ was all that Lucio sent in reply, not wanting to bog her down with messages or drain much more of his already low phone battery. It wasn’t much, but it said everything he wanted to say.

He was thanking her for more than the cookie and for the water. Her messages had been enough to bring him back down. He was lucky she had been bored then. 

She had told him that maybe Jean hadn’t been pushing him away because they were done, because he had failed last night, but rather because he had a one-track mind. Lucio could relate to that.

And she had told him that there was at least another person or two out there in the world that he could belong to, people that would look forward to seeing him again. Someone more than the person that was paid to be by his side, though Satya was definitely more friend than manager by this point.

He wouldn’t be forgotten. He wasn’t replaceable. He belonged. At least he liked to think he did.

The thought cheered him up immensely, thought, admittedly, it was hard to be sad eating a delectable cookie dessert in a grassy green park like this.

After he had finished savoring the cookie, he decided to walk around the block. He ended up wandering around a massive flea market for awhile, enjoying eyeing the odd odds and ends, and then he wandered around a natural health store stocked with lots of local fair. 

He ended up buying a fizzy bath bomb, he didn’t know why other than it looked kinda delicious, a bottle of face oil he knew Satya used, as a present for her, and three peppermint lip balms that smelled wonderful and made his lips tingle.

By the time he finished wandering around the second store, it was dark outside. Even he knew that wandering around New York aimlessly at night wasn’t the best idea, so he decided to get a cab.

As he approached the street, right as he was about to wave his hand and try to hail a cab, his phone rumbled in his pocket. Taking a step back, away from the road, he flicked it on and looked at the screen.

 **-hey hey hey hey wyd???** Olivia had texted him.

**-u busy??????????**

_  
-no._

_-trying to get back 2 my room_

_-kinda lost rn_

_-whatsup?_

**  
-K get this?**

**-so im eating at echo talking with bap**

**-n hes like wondering what u 2 could do tonite when he gets off**

**-or tomorrow if they keep him late**

**-like food or movie or idk what guys do for fun**

**-weightlifting? bacon? kiss?**

**-n im like so ur gonna text him tonite?**

**-n he’s like**

**-ಠ_ಠ’**

**-(ʘᗩʘ')**

**-(╯°□°)╯**

**-(ಥ﹏ಥ) ‘i dont have his number’**

**-i told u he’s dumb lol**

**-want me to tell him i have ur number?**

  
Lucio wanted to jump for joy. Baptiste was thinking of things for them to do tonight or tomorrow? He wanted to meet up again? 

_-please do.  
  
_

**-kkkkk in a min**

**-gonna make him sweat**

**-unless u wanna roll up here n make him kiss ur ass**

**-be like dropping ur coat, its me, stupid, anastasia-ing his ass**

_  
-nah but thanks._

**  
-lol fiiiine**

**-just told him**

**-he looked close to crying**

**-hes kinda dumb, but hes a nice guy i swear**

**-brilliant and dim at the same time**

**-he doesnt believe me so i gotta show him my phone**

**-text something so he knows its u**

_  
-how’s your bottom doing, Jean?_

**  
-LOOOOOOOOOOOLLL**

**-perfect.**

**-he doesnt have his phone on him**

**-in his locker rn bc hes cumsy**

**-*clumsy omg**

**-wondering if u wanted to stay over 2nite?**

**-he might not be back til l8 tho**

**-or tomorrow?**

_  
-is tongiht okay for him?_

**  
-he says yea**

**-might not be back til l8 tho**

**-like 1 or 2**

**-but I can let u in once im done here**

**-n he says that hes got tmrw off so you can pin him in bed as long as u want**

**-kinky lol**

**-had u all wrong**

**-wdys?  
  
**

_-id love to!_

**  
-cool cool cool**

**-ill send u the address**

**-meet u there in ten im almost done here**

**-he told me to let u pick a movie so think about it n i can make it happen**

**-he’s gonna grab food for his dinner from here**

**-actually take his break for once wowza**

**-do u want me to bring u food?**

**-ill make bap buy it as a stupid tax**

_  
-i can get myself dinner_

**  
-nononono its cool**

**-he wants to b/c he feels bad**

**-as he should lol**

**-n he gets a discount**

**-whatcha want?**

He gave her what was quickly becoming his new comfort food: the sandwich, the side salad, and some fries, and went to hail a cab.  
  
Be still his beating heart, the night wasn’t over for him yet. He was going to spend another night with Baptiste, and this time he was ready to do it right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Porra (Portuguese)  
> Translation: Shit (but a gentler, softer way to cuss than Merda)  
> \-----------------  
> Kudos, comments, and feedback are always super appreciated!
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3
> 
> Questions, comments, or concerns? Hit me up on here or on my Twitter: https://twitter.com/KittenzCaboodle


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Chapter warnings  
> Sex scene (Beginning and end of scene marked with a ** if you wish to skip it)
> 
> Happy reading! <3

As a taxi pulled over, Olivia’s text with Jean’s address came through, making it an easy task to get to Baptiste’s with just a swipe of his credit card. It wasn’t far away, but Lucio had no sense of direction in late night New York, so a cab seemed like a smart move.

The car pulled up to the sidewalk, dropping Lucio off just ahead of Olivia, who was walking up the sidewalk.

“Hey there, Lu,” she said, carrying a styrofoam take-out container in one hand and a large cup in the other, with a second small cup in the crook of her arm. She wore a short purple trench coat, black skinny jeans, heeled boots, and had a laptop bag over her shoulder, quite the difference to the first time they had met. “Food. Let’s get in so you can eat while it’s hot”

She held the container and drink out for him to take, and, as soon as he did, led him up the stairs. She unlocked the door, took him up the four flights of stairs, and then opened up Baptiste’s apartment.

Motioning for Lucio to sit down at the counter, she pulled out her laptop and sat on the couch, “What movie do you want?”

“Uh, would he like the Princess Bride?” Lucio had tried to pick the most universally likeable movie on his short list of favorites. Who didn’t like that movie?

“Oh, yeah, he would like that.” Olivia confirmed, typing quickly on her keyboard, “And I am ashamed to say I don’t have it. Gimme a sec-”

There was more typing, a few clicks on the laptop’s mousepad, and then she leaned back against the cushion, “In less than half an hour, I will have an absolutely definitely legal disk of it just for you.”

Lucio popped open the container and eyed his strawless drink, cracking the plastic lid off and setting it to the side.

“Jean said he made the drink special just for you. A virgin coconut mojito.” she said, “He said you really liked it last time. Please accept that idiot’s attempt at an apology. He’s trying, I promise.”

“Well, he does make a good mojito, so guess I can forgive him,” Lucio said with a grin as he took an eager sip of the drink. It was as fruity and delicious as the first time he tried it and was just what he needed.

Olivia let him eat in near silence, the sound of rapid keyboard typing the only noise she offered. It wasn’t until Lucio was throwing away the container, and sipping at the end of his drink, that she spoke.

“Baptain Marvel asked me to hang with you until he gets off,” she said, “So… Want to see some pictures of him?”

“I don’t want to see embarrassing pictu-”

“Not embarrassing. Just pictures.” she promised, “I feel like a mom hanging with her son’s boy-....friend, so I’m gonna make the most of that feeling. So, pictures… yes?”

“Sure.” Lucio reluctantly agreed. There should be no harm in it. She had promised they weren’t embarrassing, so there shouldn’t be anything incriminating. And, to be honest, he kinda just wanted to know more about Jean in general.

She patted the cushion next to her and Lucio came over to join her on the couch. A folder was open on her computer already, revealing a gallery full of pictures. She clicked the first one and it opened up on her screen.

It was a younger Jean, clean-shaven, crouching in front of the Story Brook College sign, smiling brightly for the camera. His hair on the top of his head was longer, medium length locks that hung near the left half of his face, the right half being neatly buzzed. He wore a denim jacket, a white t-shirt, and dark jeans.

“I made him go pose with the sign,” she explained, “He was so proud of making it into college, had so much school pride, I wanted to give him a reminder of it.”

The next picture she picked from the bunch was a side-profile of him in a museum, dressed as casually as the last picture, his young face full of puzzlement as he eyed the pear that seemed to be glued to the wall. The next picture must have been taken right after, because it was him, in the same place, now giving the camera a confused side-eyed look.

“He likes art, but this museum confused him so much. He does not have modern taste,” she said, “He’s kinda old-fashioned at times, but it makes him interesting.”

The next pictures came in a set. It was an assortment of Jean having fallen asleep in a range of places, chairs, floors, beds, textbook always in hand, on the table, under his head, or sometimes on it. Sometimes he wore pajamas, sometimes street clothes, occasionally even scrubs.

Olivia noticed how Lucio sat up in his seat when he saw the scrubs picture. “Bap worked full-time while working towards his Bachelors degree in nursing.” she explained, “We were roommates at that time, sharing an apartment off-campus. There would be a lot of nights that he ended up crashing. Once I found him asleep on the bathroom floor after a shower. Thankfully he was wearing pants.”

The next picture was him in his graduation gown, blue cap resting on his now shorter hair. His smile was beaming as he proudly held the degree in his side, showing it off to the camera. The next picture was Olivia posing next to him, arm wrapped around his back, with Jean’s smile uneasy.

“My dad and I went to his graduation so he could have someone there for him.” she said, “We clapped _sooo_ hard for him. My dad wanted to bring air horns. I told him no. Bap wouldn’t have liked that.” 

“Your foster dad? The one who likes to kick asses?” Lucio asked.

“Yeah, him! The two of them didn’t really know each other very well and if you don’t know how much of a softie my _papi_ can be, his face can be scary. Bap was a lil’ nervous,” She said, scrolling to the next picture, now with Jean smiling as wide as before, “But my foster dad is good at making jokes and broke the ice and got him to relax. They don’t talk much, not really, but they’re cool now.”

“The more you talk about your foster dad, the more he fascinates me and scares me.” Lucio admitted.

“He’s not _that_ bad, not if he likes you. You might even know him.”

“What’s his name?”

“It’s-” her eyes returned to the monitor and she gasped excitedly, “Lu! See- oh!”

His heart stopped momentarily. “What?” was all he could say. Had he just heard his name or what?

“Look! See this one?” she was pointing to the computer, “This is when he got hired at the hospital. His first work day as a big boy. We hung out on the hospital's grounds, on a bench by a walking path. I brought him lunch and spent it together. He would talk so much about his job. I don’t even know what he was saying half the time, but he talked so energetically. It was cute.”

Lucio’s eyes had locked onto the picture. A medical mask was hanging on an elastic loop hooked over his ear and he was clad in dark blue scrubs. The lighting in the picture was fantastic and highlighted the angles of his face and the spark in his eyes. The grassy green yard and gray-blue sky behind him served as a wonderful canvas. A hand was up, somewhat blurry, caught in the middle of animatedly telling a story of some kind.

It was beautiful and breathtaking and reminded Lucio that despite how much he and Jean had been talking, he still didn’t really know anything about him at all.

“Why did he stop nursing?” Lucio found himself asking, “He looks so happy here.”

“...That’s not really my tale to tell.” Olivia told him, clicking rapidly through a lot of pictures before she stopped on one final one. “Here’s him after getting hired at the Talon Nightclub. There’s me - I was so hot. Thank God I still am. - and Akande. Look at that smug grin, gosh. There’s Mauga-”

There stood the giant bouncer Lucio had seen in the back of the group, arm wrapped around Baptiste’s maroon-suited shoulder. His hair was wildly big, and mostly black with a stripe of white near the front, his eyes intense and his sharp teeth clenched in a dangerous-looking smile.

“-And there’s Max. He’s an investor in the club.” she pointed at a wiry thin man dressed to the nines in a suit with slicked back dark hair adorning his head, “And there’s our Bap! Akande said to dress formally for the re-opening. It wasn’t ever _really_ closed, but it was to build hype, you know?”

“Why did he leave the club?” Lucio asked. The picture made the bunch look like a mish-mashed family. It was a stark contrast to how uneasy Jean had been when they ran into the people from his past.

“He doesn’t like working with friends, he’s discovered, with rare exceptions. He would rather keep those parts of his life separate.” Olivia explained. “Plus he and Mauga ended up having a drunk hook-up one night, one of Jean’s few one night stands, and Mauga would not stop talking about it. He got the Echo Lounge job not long after that. I miss him but I don’t blame him. It’s not like we don’t hang out still.”

“Mmm.” was all that Lucio said in reply. He was reminded about the fact that one of the reasons that he had come to New York was to ask Jean if he would want to sing his song, but if he didn’t like working with friends…

Well, he would still ask eventually. All Jean could say was no, right?

“You sure take a lot of good pictures.” Lucio said as she closed the folder and then her laptop, “You into photography?”

“Casually. Nothing serious.” she said, “I just want to give him something to look back on. Reminders of how far he’s come and how cool a guy he is.”

“So you said you’ve been friends since college?”

“Yeah. Like 13 years now? And I wish I could tell you some _cRaZy_ shenanigans that Bapperoni got up to, but he was a serious student. The only reputation he got was being a sweetie. He went to some parties but was always trying to make sure people didn’t overdo it, he would loan girls his coats, - he lost a few coats that way until I made them give them back - a nice, broad pair of shoulders to drunkenly cry on.” she said, “He’s never really let loose before. Lately, he’s come close. That night at the club, where he was dancing with you, that’s probably the most fun I’ve seen him have in a while.”

“Oh.” Lucio’s face grew flush as he recalled snippets of the night.

“Be nice to him, Lu. That’s all I ask.” she said, laughing at herself, “Oh _Dios mío,_ when we first met I kinda latched onto him because I went to college young and he reminded me of my older brother, protective and nice and serious,… when did I become his _mom_?”

Lucio couldn’t help but grin at the tired smile on Olivia’s face. “Isn’t he older than you?” he teased, “How did that pregnancy work out?

“Hey, I could have been a teen mom, don’t judge me.” Lucio attempted briefly to mathematically quantify her statement - if Baptiste was older, then how was baby?... - before she interrupted. “You wanna see what’s on TV? He doesn’t pay for cable - I hope that’s not a deal breaker - but maybe there’s something on the local channels?”

At first it didn’t look like there was much on TV, but then they found what looked to be the middle of a televised concert. Lucio recognized the arena. That was where he had performed and nearly fainted on stage. The stage looked a lot smaller on TV, when he wasn’t standing on it, waiting to be executed.

Olivia checked the time on her phone; it was probably close around midnight by now. “Oh. It’s a rerun of the concert from earlier.” she tapped a second time on her phone, her eyes widening as she read something, “Hey, Lu?”

He pulled his eyes off of the tv. “Yeah?”

“...Want me to text you any of the pics I’ve got here?” she said slowly, “You said you liked them, right?”

“Yeah, I did…” This offer had come out of nowhere, “But I’m good, thanks.”

“Too late. I sent you one of him and me at a park after he got back to New York. We got ice cream and sat on the swings. It was a pretty sunset.” she said quickly, “Make sure you got it. Check real quick.”

Lucio pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped the power button. The screen stayed dark. “Aw man, my battery’s dead. Finally ran out, it seems,” he groaned, “I’ll check later, Olivia, I promise.”

“Wait wait wait, um, what kind of phone do you use again?” she said, opening up her laptop bag.

“GL Nebula 9.”

“Aw, um, I see…” she sucked in some air through her teeth, “I use an Ambrosia 12X, and that’s a different port. Bap uses a Konia Firefly and that’s an older port. He bought it secondhand after he knocked his last phone into the sink. I don’t have a cord for you to use...”

“That’s okay. I’ll check it later. I promise.” Lucio told her.  
  
“Yeah, Lu, as soon as possible, okay?” she sat back against the couch cushion and picked up a pillow, squeezing it against her as she and Lu watched the TV.

The concert was a broadcast of The Deadlock Rebels mini-tour, where the members that had once made up the group reformed in a temporary collab. 

Ashe, as she was known by her country pop stage name, was singing on the microphone, dressed up in her old leather, cowgirl-vest-coat Rebels outfit, and country star McCree, who had donned his old Deadlock vest, was shredding away on the guitar. A very tall man dressed like a giant robot, complete with a flashing helmet, pounded away on a keyboard.

“You see that guy there?” Olivia said, pointing at the giant, “His name’s Bob and I don’t think he ever talks.”

“He doesn’t speak in interviews you mean?”

“Nah, I do sound work sometimes and I helped set up The Do Something’s stint at The Talon club. He never said a word…” she said, “Polite man. Very sweet and gentle. Signed a lot, but he’s not deaf. And he really is that tall.”

The camera was angled so that Bob was behind McCree, and the latter looked tiny compared to the former.

“How tall is _that tall_?” Lucio asked.

“Jesse’s like 6’2 on a good day in those boots, so probably about 7 feet tall.”

“Whoof.”

“I know, right?” she said, “and no, before you ask, I never saw him without the helmet.”

Bob, like Lucio, always performed with his head covered. From the early rocking days of The Deadlock Rebels to the more energetic Do Something’s sound, Bob's face was unknown.

The only thing that ever changed was his outfits. Right now he was wearing a leather vest over his robot suit, the only difference being the bowler cap glued to his head, a souvenir from his and Ashe's _Socialite_ era where she played the role of a rich, country, kick-ass belle and he her butler.

Lucio couldn't help but wonder if he ever felt lonely under the mask too. At least he had two other people that he could talk to, that knew he was under there. At least he didn't always have to be a secret.

The door to the apartment rattled and then they heard the scratching of a key in the lock. Baptiste flew into the apartment, head whipping as he looked down the hall to the right.

“Over here,” Olivia said with a small waggle of her fingers, drawing his attention to the twosome chilling on the couch.

Baptiste stepped towards them, wheeled around, took off his backpack, stepped towards them again, turned back to the counter, put down a large drink he was carrying, stepped towards the couch once more, immediately turned back around and shedded his jacket, moving so quickly that he momentarily got caught in it, then turned back around. 

Lucio got dizzy watching him. He stood, unsure if there was anything he could do to help Jean. Frankly, it kind of looked like he needed help of some kind.

Baptiste approached Lucio, his chest heaving and out of breath. Had he been running? His arms were extended briefly, but then his open hands clenched into fists and his arms dropped to his sides.

“Can I hug you, Lu?” he asked breathlessly. “Would that be okay?”

“Yeah, that’s fine-” Lucio barely finished giving him the okay before he was pulled into an embrace, the dichotomy of the cold night air lingering on Jean’s warmth near dizzying.

Their chests were flush and a muscular arm was curled around his back, squeezing so tightly that his back cracked. A hand slid up the back of his neck, burying itself into his tied-back hair and pressing his head against Baptiste’s upper chest. He smelled of cologne, a citrusy and woody scent, fresh, sweet, and spicy. There was a faint note of smoke, a lingering stink from the bar, that mingled with his naturally heady musk and left Lucio’s head swimming.

The intimacy of the hug was slowly turning Lucio into a puddle and he was happily melted into the embracing. The hand in his hair shifted, massaging at a bundle of tense nerves at the base on the base of his neck, and left him humming in contentment.

“I’m so stupid,” he could hear Jean say. Their chests pressed together, Lucio could feel how Baptiste’s heart had been racing and how it only just now began to steady. “I’m so sorry. I’m an idiot.”

Lucio tilted his head back, wanting to look at Jean, and the instant he moved all the pressure on his head and neck vanished. Baptiste was letting him move without a fight, and Lucio knew that if he pushed back, the arm around his back would fall without a word.

“It’s okay.” Lucio said, looking up at his face. Despite how Lucio was trying to reassure him, Jean’s face only screwed up tighter after their eyes met, his jaw clenched, teeth bared. “You’re not stupid, Baptiste.”

“Yes. I am.” he finally said. “I could have lost you because I wasn’t thinking, because you don’t feel-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Olivia’s voice cut in, interrupting Jean. He looked her way, as did Lucio who had to tilt his head back and look at her upside down because of the arm still holding him in place. “You’re a dumbass. A buffoon. Stupid as a cupid. Whatever. Stop choking Lu to death and go clean up, dude. Then you can hug without getting all that work sweat all over him.”

“I-” he looked down at Lucio, unsure.

“I’ll hang out with your boy wonder and make sure he’s not just a dream,” she said, “You ate right?”

“Yeah.” he said.

“Have something good?”

“Lemon pasta and chicken with roasted vegetables on the side.” he answered, his eyes widening as he remembered something, “Oh! Lu! I brought you another coconut mojito, no alcohol, like Olivia gave you, in case you wanted another one.”

Lucio smiled up at him. “Thanks, Jean-”

“Let Lu out of your huggable arms and go take a shower and change into something comfortable, Bap,” Olivia said, “You’ll feel better, I promise. I can keep showing Lu pictures of you.”

He straightened up, reluctantly letting go of Lucio. “You’ve been showing him pictures?”

“Well, yeah, I gotta embarrass you somehow.” she said, “It’s like the law.”

“Did you show him the time we went to the downtown art show sale and the model train museum?” he said, his hand idly rubbing up and down Lucio’s arm. “That was a fun day.”

“I did not show him that nerdy day, but I can.” she told him, shooing him away, “Now go.”

“I’ll be just a few minutes, Lu.” Baptiste promised, giving him a small peck on the cheek, one that left Lucio smiling, “Quick as I can.”

Baptiste disappeared back into his room and Lucio rejoined Olivia on the couch. The concert served as background music as she showed off the art show, with all the unique arts and crafts for sale from painted wood to hand-sewn pouches to art supplies available for purchase. 

The train museum was strangely adorable, with many massive dioramas filling up a large room, each square or u-shaped table depicting a crafted environment for the trains to run through, decorated with small figures and buildings as well as handmade paper mache cliffs and other crafted elements depicting local history.

As they reached the last picture, Baptiste and Olivia taking a selfie with one of the older gentlemen who ran the museum, the sound of running water stopped. Baptiste must have finished cleaning up.

The loud strum of a guitar pulled their attention back to the TV as the first chords of McCree and Ashe’s new song began to play. They had written it together, working to emulate their old sound and it was a highlight of their current tour.

Ashe was at the microphone singing the song _Bullseye,_ her vocals strong and confident. The song was a story of heartbreak, with Ashe and McCree taking the roles of a couple no longer in love, a friends to enemies tale, hardly able to stand each other anymore.

The song was a hit out the gate, appeasing old fans and bringing in new ones, and with reason. McCree’s smooth sweet voice perfectly tackled the sadness and frustration behind a broken heart, and then Ashe’s part would ramp up on the rock as her part was fueled by the anger and spite when love was lost.

The most infamous part of the song was coming up, where all the music would stop and Ashe would speak, not sing, the chorus in her throaty country twang.

_Thought I’d never be good at darts_

_Didn’t even see a reason to try_

_But since I’ve put your picture on the board_

_Ain’t been hitting nothing BULLSEYES_

The audience screamed the last word with her and then the music began to rock once more. McCree and Ashe had wonderful stage presence, each playing to each other as well as they did the crowd. 

McCree would flirt with the audience when Ashe was singing, even going so far as to turn his back and do a body roll, the girls screaming as his butt popped back in his tight jeans. Ashe would steal the microphone out of McCree’s hands at times, or drop it low in her high-heeled boots, bending and snapping to perfection and roaring applause.

If it was an act between the two of them, it was flawless. Lucio could only hope that his own stage energy was half as good in other people’s eyes. He himself didn’t know if he was any good, or if the people that said he was were lying to him, and it was terrifying to think about.

Baptiste re-entered the room as the song was ending. The aura around him was calmer down and he looked more relaxed, now dressed down in the pink flamingo’d Hawaiian shirt and a pair of dark sweat pants. The shower had done him some good it seemed.

“Either of you want any popcorn?” he asked as he stepped into the kitchen, “Can’t watch a movie without popcorn.”

“I’m gonna be peacing out of here soon, Baptain Planet,” Olivia said, “Don’t worry about me.”

He leaned over the counter and looked at the TV as the opening keyboard solo of the next song began. “Oh, was McCree’s show on tonight?” he said, “Do you want to stay and watch the rest of it?”

“It’s a rerun, he played earlier this evening. I taped it,” She said as she began to pack up her laptop, “I’ll get out of your way. Lu’s movie is on the disc I left by your TV. Have fun you two. Make the most of tonight, yeah?”

“Oh, yeah, thank you.” Jean said as she put on her coat, “I owe you, Livvy.”

“Hell yeah, you do. I already know what you’re getting me.” She grinned, saying with emphasis. “Cookie. Wich.”

Baptiste replied with no hesitation. “Done.”

“Can’t wait! Bye, Bap!” she looked over to the couch, “Bye, Lu! You two have a great night, okay?”

And with one last round of goodbyes, she was gone, heading back to her own place. Now Lucio and Jean were alone with nothing but the sound of popcorn popping on the stove and the singers on TV serenading them.

A few minutes later, Baptiste was slipping the DVD into the player and flopping down onto the cushions next to Lucio. He had brought a large bowl of popcorn, slathered in the perfect amount of salt and melted butter, as well as a tall glass of water for him and the virgin mojito for Lucio. He had poured Lucio’s drink into a glass, discarding the styrofoam cup that had been marked with both a “JBA” and a “Lou”.

The movie began and Jean sank into the seat. “Thanks for coming back, Lu.” he said as the opening scene ran.

“Thanks for having me back,” Lucio replied, snacking on the popcorn. “I know I’m taking up a lot of your time, Jean. Thanks for giving me another night to see you.”

Jean didn’t reply except with a hum of acknowledgment. They watched the movie for a bit, just sitting next to each other, until Jean yawned and stretched, his arm resting lightly on Lucio’s shoulder in a not-so-subtle move.

Around the half-way point of the movie, their popcorn was finished and their drinks mostly drunk. Jean’s arm grew heavy on Lucio’s shoulder now, with the man falling his way for a second, twitching back upright.

“Are you falling asleep?” Lucio asked as he watched the man shake his head.

“No.” Jean paused. “I am a bit tired, but don’t worry about that. I’m very used to being tired.”

“Do you want to lay down?” Lucio offered.

Baptiste removed his arm from Lucio’s shoulders. “I’m not kicking you off of the couch, Lu.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Lucio slowly reached up and grabbed the collar of Jean’s shirt and tugged, and Jean followed without a bit of fight. Lucio coaxed him into laying down, his head resting on Lucio’s chest, with Lucio now laying against the arm of the couch.

“Are you comfortable?” Baptiste asked as soon as he was down, words slightly muffled as his cheek was squished against Lucio’s chest . “No trouble breathing? No loss of circulation?”

“No trouble at all,” Lucio assured him, hand cautiously petting the back of Jean’s head, like he had done to Lucio.

Baptiste was quiet. “I might fall asleep here, Lu.” he confessed.

That was fine with Lucio. “Okay.” 

Jean waited, checking once more that this was working out for both of them, before he finally laid his head back down on Lucio’s chest and relaxed.

Baptiste did end up dozing off a few times, going limp against Lucio as his breathing slowed, usually twitching awake and apologizing for it just a few moments later. The fifth time, Lucio interrupted him.

“You don’t have to keep apologizing, Jean.” Lucio said, adding, “You’ve been apologizing this whole night.”

Baptiste was silent for a moment. “...Sorry?” he said, unsure of how to respond.

Lucio continued. “And what was it you said when you got back? You could have lost me-”

“Because I forgot to get your number-” Baptiste cut in.

“-because I don’t feel what?” Lucio asked. “You said you weren’t thinking because I don’t feel…?”

Baptiste sighed. “Temporary,” he finished. “You don’t feel temporary.”

Lucio’s brows knit together as he looked down at the top of the curly-haired head laying against him.“...What does that mean?”

“You… you slot so perfectly well into a hole I didn’t even know I had. You’ve integrated yourself so perfectly into my life it feels like where you’re meant to be.” Baptiste quietly said. “You were so beautiful this morning, it just felt right… my brain was rushing and thinking about other things and forgot you’re temporary. Perhaps I forgot purposefully because I’m not ready to face the idea of you leaving so soon. You just… you and your smile and your charm belong here to me.”

“Oh.” was all Lucio could think to say. His mind was too busy latching onto his words. 

_Where you’re meant to be._

_You belong here._

“I know,” Jean continued, “It’s stupid. I could’ve lost you just like that. Thank God, Olivia had your number. What could I have done to find you? Call every room at the Horizon? Place a ‘missed connections’ ad about a beautiful man named Lu who danced right into my life and heart? I don’t know. I’m glad I don’t have to know.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid,” Lucio said, “I think it’s nice that you’re letting me into your world.”

“You’re more than welcome to it, Lu. The borders of my life only open up for a few select imports, you being one of them.” Jean said. “As long as you like, please stay.”

_Please stay._

But Lucio realized that while he may be welcome to Jean’s world, he didn’t know much of anything about it. He had a vague idea, thanks to Olivia’s digital photo albums. Jean worked at a bar, Jean had worked at a different bar before that, Jean had been a nurse, and… he could sing and dance. That was about it.

If he was going to stay as long as he could in this world, he wanted to know more about it, everything there was to know.

“Hey, Jean,” Lucio said slowly, “Olivia was showing me some pictures-”

“Did she show you the model train museum?” Jean said brightly.

“Yeah, that was cool.” Lucio replied, “Um, can I ask why you’re no longer a nurse?”

He felt Baptiste twitch at the question and quickly continued. “Because she showed me your graduation and some pictures of you at work and you looked so happy. And I saw your scrubs in the back of the closet too, when I was looking for hangers. And your degree’s tucked away, but I saw that smile on your face while you were holding it for the first time and it was beautiful smile, Jean-”

“I found that after quite a few years of being one, I needed to take a step back.” Baptiste answered, the reply unfortunately vague.

“Why?” Lucio asked, because Baptiste’s answer answered nothing.

“Personal reasons that affected my work.” That also wasn’t helpful, and all Lucio could do was speculate. What kind of personal reasons make a nurse leave his job? Did something bad happen?

“...Ah.” was all Lucio said. Baptiste must have heard the unease in his tone.

At first Jean said nothing else, but then he sighed. “Wait, that sounds like I got addicted to painkillers or stabbed a patient or was eating babies or was busted selling medication on the streets or something bad, wait. Wait. Let me explain further. Nothing like that happened,” he sighed again, “Do you want the short version or the very long one?”

“Long, please.” Anything that he could get to know about Baptiste, the better.

“Even if it’s ‘back to my childhood’ long? It’ll be a lot of dialogue on my part...” Jean asked hesitantly. “Because I’ll have to go back that far in my life to help clarify a lot of what I-”

“Go ahead.” Lucio nodded. It was about time for a flashback scene anyway.

“Alright, um, so I’m Jean-Baptiste Augustin from Haiti, hello, and my parents and I immigrated here when I was eight. We lived in America for ten years together, but I don’t think they ever thought of it as home. I translated everything for them and we only spoke French or Creole at home.” he said, “Three days after I turned eighteen, my grandmother got sick. She lived alone. My parents decided to move back to Haiti, back to their home, to take care of her. They told me to pack my bags and get ready to go back to Haiti.”

He sucked in a breath, sighing against Lucio’s chest before he continued. 

“My family is very family-oriented, we cater to the elder generations even to our own detriment. I knew that if I went back with them, I would never leave. My life would be spent catering to my grandmother, my other grandmother, my aunts, my uncles, my parents… all of them, taking care of them until I became part of that elder generation myself, marrying a woman I didn’t love, having kids I didn’t want to continue the cycle.” he laughed nervously. It was not a happy sound. “I did not go with them. I stayed. I had spent ten of my formative years in this country, it was my home. And so, they disowned me.”

“Disowned you?” Lucio asked. Was he hearing him right?

“Yes. I haven’t heard from my family in fifteen years, not since my grandmother and I last talked. She was the only one who kept in contact, the only one not angry at me. The griot and jam are some of her recipes, she sent them to me so I could have a taste of Haiti here with me. They’re never as good as hers, but they’re close,” he said, his voice becoming a raspy whisper. Lucio pet his head some more. “The only messages my family sent to me at the beginning of the disownment was that I was selfish. I was a horrible, selfish son, who only thought of myself and I deserved nothing. _Lè ou mouri se mouche kap vini nan antèman w_ , they would say, Only mosquitoes will come to your funeral.”

“Wow.” was all Lucio could think to say, disgusted at Jean’s family’s actions and words.

“I know, and it’s awful of me to think, but when you were talking about your family, all I could think was at least they loved you to the end… I’m sorry about it.” he said, “God rest their souls, they raised a fine boy.”

“You don’t have to apologize for that, Jean.”

“Please, just let me, for my sake.” he said, “Anyway, where was I?”

“Um…” Lucio couldn’t think of a soft way to answer, “Disowned.”

“Right. Uh, so I was left on my own and I couldn’t get their insults out of my head. Even while I was working and applying to college scholarships as soon as I could, working my butt off and doing everything in my power to start a life for myself, I still could hear them calling me selfish.” he said, “So, I made it my life goal to prove them wrong.”

“You are one of the nicest guys, Jean. I’ve never met anyone more generous than you.” Lucio assured him.

“It takes a lot of practice and the right motivation, like someone you want to keep giving to.” he said, “There were a few degrees I debated, but I had always been scientifically-minded and medicine was a subject I adored, so I went for a nursing degree and earned my associates. I worked at a general practitioner's office while also earning my bachelors. The pediatric patients were my favorites.”

“Pediatric?” Lucio both knew and didn’t know that word. It was on the tip of his tongue….

“Children. I enjoyed working with children. I would love to do so again one day, perhaps, if I find where my drive has gone.” he explained, “You said you saw the scrubs in my closet?”

“Yeah.” Lucio thought back to the bright, colorful, and cartoon-covered shirts he had seen.

“Those were my staple uniform pieces throughout my nursing careers, the few I kept in the end. See, adults usually don’t really care about what you’re wearing. They might silently judge you, but you’re also the one that wields the needle, so they usually keep their mouth shut.” he said, “I wore the fun shirts for the kids. Help them relax and open up. Give them something they recognize. You’re no longer as intimidating a person if you can talk to little Suzie about the Pepper Pawprint and The Bark Brigade pups, her favorites, covering your shirt.”

“You sound like an amazing nurse.” Lucio said, smiling as he pictured it, “I can picture you working with kids.”

“The simple days of check-ups and getting to watch the kids grow and become familiar with the patients were my favorite,” he said, “I eventually, after much learning and on-hands experience, graduated with my bachelor’s with a focus towards emergency room and urgent care specialties. While I took a few classes towards a masters degree, I had to stop. Work and education weren’t mixing well anymore, not at the ER.” 

He paused and blew out a breath. “Have you ever been to an emergency room, Lu?”

Flashes of the night spent in the New York City ER after his last show popped into his head. “Yes.” he said quietly.

“I hope it was nothing terrible.” he said, “Emergency Rooms are chaotic, no day is ever the same. You always have to be on your toes, you have to make snap judgments, efficient diagnoses… you have to deal with patients screaming at you, you have prep patients for surgery, assist in those surgeries and keep the patient stable. I’ve had patients fight me, bite me, try to run away, ones out of their mind on drugs who’ve tried to stab me. You have to deal with so much; people who don’t want to die and people who do who were stopped in time, and the people who weren’t, people who are abused, people who don’t believe they’re being abused even when hands were wrapped around their throat. People who think they’re invincible until you’re standing above them as their vitals drop and they panic as they realize they’re as weak as the rest of us.”

He sucked in a long breath. “That was the only place I was never happy to work with children. It was rarely anything good,” he said, “It was a lot of long nights - I often worked the night shift, it was a crazy time on the floor. I spent…” he paused to mumble some math under his breath, “two years associates, two and a half years bachelors, two years hands-on training before being hired as a full-fledged ER nurse...A decade, give or take. I spent a decade working in that ER, helping who knows how many people. I’m _not_ selfish, Lu. I gave so much of myself to that ER, to everyone I helped.”

“A decade. Holy cow...” Lucio said in a low breath. A decade spent saving lives. Jean was like a superhero. No one in their right mind could call him selfish. He had, like, earned himself life-time immunity from that.

“I’ve seen a lot in that time. It is New York, after all. A lot of shit happens here. I usually got most of my patients out of the ER alive, but who’s counting? Who really counts the survivors in the end, Lu? The living come and go, but the dead never truly leave, do they?” Baptiste said, shaking his head before he continued, “About just under three years ago, two and half more like, I heard about Medical Aid Worldwide looking for paid volunteers to work in other countries and I volunteered to get out of the ER for a while. I was sick of those walls and it would be a break, you see, but because I was helping others, I wasn’t being _selfish_ . I was going to be a part of the Caribbean Coalition, but I was asked to move to a squad going to French Guiana at the last second. I would love to say that experience helped me grow as a person and mature, but I **_can’t_ **.” 

Lucio could hear how upset that last sentence was, the word spat out with a disappointed poison. “Was it bad?”

“Awful. I wouldn’t do it again. We were underfunded, we didn’t have the supplies we needed and any shipments took too long to arrive. We were often swamped, there had been a yellow fever outbreak recently and we were dealing with those after effects as well,” he said, “I was one of two people who spoke French, the only one entirely fluent. The other twenty did not, not more than a few words, but they were the only ones who volunteered for the region. I was on call twenty-four seven. It was worse than the ER. At least I had relief at the ER, a time to go home and relax… there, I never slept more than three hours at a time at the most which is not healthy in the slightest. That lasted almost six months.”

Baptiste sounded tired just talking about the experience. Lucio couldn’t imagine what it had been like. “What happened after that?”

“After that I returned to the ER in New York, my old position and I was tired. I dreaded going to work, I hated my job and my life, I had run out of energy and was killing myself to keep pushing forward, trying to prove to the world that I wasn’t selfish.” he said, “But one of the few things as dangerous as an incompetent nurse is an apathetic and depressed one, so, after six months back, before I had a breakdown on the floor, I quit. I walked away from it all. I needed a break desperately and it took me metaphorically faceplanting into concrete to realize my reserves pool had long since dried up.”

“Was it hard to walk away from nursing?” Lucio had to ask. He had seen how happy Baptiste had looked at the beginning, but he hadn’t seen him at the end of it.

“Terrifyingly easy. Considering I spent a decade of my life at it, it was frightening how easy it was to walk away and not look back.” Baptiste answered, “And I’ve been taking care of myself for the last year and a half. I had gained weight and let myself go, so I’ve been working on getting to where I’m happy with myself physically, which I have reached. I’m in the maintaining stage. I’ve been cooking more, I missed doing that, and trying to appreciate little things more, like music and dancing…”

“What about emotionally?” Lucio asked, “You said you’re doing better physically. What about emotionally? None of that sounded like an easy time, Baptiste.”

“I‘ve been working on it. Olivia will schedule outings for us, like the club the other night, and after I quit, she would drop by all the time with snacks or books or just lend an ear or eat my food and talk, because she knows what it’s like to be lonely. She’s been my rock and I am proud to call her my best friend.” he said, turning and finally looking up at Lucio. “Um, and see, I had been burning the candle at both ends for so long and got so tired, giving my all to prove I’m not selfish, I had thought I ran out of myself to give to anyone else ever again. Until recently, that is.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Turns out if I try to give a piece of myself to everyone, I grow exhausted and I shut down and depress myself. But having a few special people to share with? That’s where my joy lies.” Baptiste said, “I had thought that I was done, Lu, and I didn’t see the point of ripping myself apart the facade of a shallow friendship, I didn’t want to go through the song and dance of trying and failing to hold together fake, crumbling relationships. But then I met you and I wanted to give it all a second chance.”

Lucio’s heart stopped in his chest. “What? _Me?_ ”

“Mmm, yeah. You rolled up wearing your heart on your sleeve and it hasn’t come off. You complimented me for being _me_ that night, you liked the emotions and rawness that I was feeling to a song that’s personal. You’re dedicated, persistent, and you don’t lie to sugarcoat feelings, you’re honest but not brutally so. Your positivity is infectious. You’re sweet, and emotional, and _real,_ ” Baptiste listed, “You’ve had a tough life, but you try not to let it define you. You’re brave and strong, and you build people up. You remind me of the hope I thought I had lost. You’re a sunbeam that pierces the clouds. You don’t hide, Lu, you shine. I love that about you. ”

“Oh my God.” was all Lucio could whisper, his mind racing with too many thoughts. 

Wait, Baptiste really liked him? Like actually liked _liked_ him? He really meant that?

I mean, they had almost slept together yesterday, but Lucio had thought that was just… a physical thing. They had been kinda flirting, he guessed, and it was just what people did. 

Not him. Vishkar didn’t want him anywhere near a relationship because his secretive nature was marketable and appealed to the female demographic ages 15-27 and increased their interest by 300%, and he would lose that if he was found to be in a relationship. They were strict about anyone he associated with, fearing rumors. Relationships were entirely off the table.

Someone actually liked him for just being himself? With no big superstar name attached? Lu was enough.

...So would Lucio be _too_ much? There was quite a difference between a guy you met on the street and a superstar, world-renowned musician…

Wasn’t there? Or were they both one and the same?

_You don’t hide, Lu, you shine_

If only Baptiste really knew. If only he knew that Lucio’s life was spent hiding under a mask, one he had built with his own two hands, and behind a fake name that was all Baptiste knew to call him. His name and music were known, but that was all. Because all Lucio did was hide.

And he was finally getting tired of it. He was tired of hiding behind music that wasn’t his, his words getting twisted and candy-coated for the radio, his chords abducted and replaced with sour notes.

He was tired of hiding. He wanted to shine.

He wanted to live Con Alcuna Licenza.

“Baptiste… Jean,” he said, finally looking at him. He paused when he noticed the side smile on Baptiste’s lips and the amused way he was looking at him. “What?”

“You were going on quite the face journey.” he replied, waving his hand around his own face. “I would never interrupt that. It was cute. So what are we thinking, Lu?”

“You know how you said I inspired you to take a second chance?” Lucio said, “I want you to give me one.”

“Why? What have you done, Lu?” he asked curiously. “What do you need a second chance for?”

“Can we try again tonight?” Lucio asked, clarifying further when Baptiste frowned, uncertain of the question. “Sleep together, I mean. Go all the way.”

“Lu. Sunshine. Hold on, Lu-” Baptiste momentarily struggled to roll over and sit up, eventually succeeding, “Mojito, we don’t have to do that. Just because I said that I lov-”

“I want to. Did a lot of thinking last night and as I walked around today. I don’t want to live life like it’s pass or fail anymore.” he said, “I want to live con alcuna licenza.”

“Con alcuna licenza?” Baptiste asked curiously. 

“It’s a music term. It means ‘with some freedom’.” Lucio explained, “I’m tired of existing to be put on display. I want to live.”

“And, pray tell, what does us having intercourse have to do with you living?” Baptiste said. His eyes briefly flicked up and down Lucio’s body. He was talking himself both in and out of Lucio’s proposition.

“I’ve spent my whole life following every rule and doing what I was told to. I’ve been a good kid. I’ve done my time. And if I don’t break out of the cage now, when the only person I’ve ever wanted is right in front of me, I don’t think I ever will,” Lucio admitted, “I wanna be a rebel and let myself have something I want _so bad_ I can almost taste it _._ I want you to want me. I _need_ you to need me.”

“I’d love you to love me.” Baptiste said, “But I’m not begging you to beg me. You panicked last time, Lu, that’s not how I want this night to go.”

“And it won’t. I’m not trying to pass a test this time, Baptiste,” Lucio promised, “This time I’m trying to follow my heart.”

“Well, I do have a weakness for rebels following their hearts.” Baptiste said with a tilt of his head, “We do this? We’re doing it my way.”

“What’s your way mean?”

Baptiste grinned sharply. “You’ll see.”

The lack of details wasn’t very comforting. But this was Jean-Baptiste, a gentlest man that Lucio had ever met. He trusted him to not leave Lucio hanging when the time came.

The credits soon began rolling in the long-forgotten movie and Baptiste pried himself off of the couch, turning off the DVD player. The tail end of the concert was playing on TV, with Ashe and McCree singing what had to be the grand finale medley.

Baptiste was so focused on the TV, watching the music be played, and it reminded Lucio of the reason that he was even here in the first play.

“Hey, Jean?” he said, pulling the other man’s attention away from the TV. “Have you ever thought about going into the music business? ‘Cause your voice is amazing. Or cooking?” He tacked the second option on in a panic.

Baptiste laughed. His shoulders bouncing and head shaking in an aggressive no, he laughed. Lucio felt a crack in his heart To Baptiste, it had just been a question, but to Lucio, it had been _the question._ And while he had been ready for it in the back of his mind, getting a no still hurt.

Jean must have noticed the frown that crossed his face for a moment and hastened to explain. “Music and cooking are hobbies of mine. They’re where I go to relax and when I need a break,” he said, “If I made them my job, my work, when I wanted to relax, where would I go? My job would become my life, as it was before, and I would lose all my escapes. Besides, I’m not brave enough to stand on stage and be at the mercy of the crowd, changing who I am to get a few sales.”

Lucio blinked at the statement. “You perform at the Echo.” he countered.

“Because I’m singing in front of _drunk,_ tired patrons at one or two or three in the morning. They don’t care. They won’t remember.” he said, “And I can get up there, close my eyes, pretend the room’s not there, and sing my heart out and have my fun while I wait for my dinner to be cooked and leave it all behind me once I exit the stage. That’s the way I like it.”

“I remembered you.” Lucio said. “I couldn’t get you out of my mind.”

“And am I ever glad for it,” he said as he clicked off the TV, cutting off McCree, Ashe, and Bob’s bows. “Are you ready to go get ready for bed now?”

“Yeah.” Lucio said, slowly getting up off of the couch. “Let’s go.”

As he washed his face and brushed his teeth, using the toothbrush Jean had opened for him last night, he thought. He thought about how the whole reason that he had come back to New York was to get Jean’s vocals on his track. He thought about how, if that had been his only goal, this trip had been a waste.

But then he thought about how he had gotten to know Jean and Olivia and make some new friends. He thought about how much his outlook had changed since he had gotten here. He thought about how much he had grown inside. He thought about how much fun he had had and how he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

And, as he smiled at the foamy-mouthed, teeth-brushing Lucio in the mirror he decided that it was okay that he failed to get Jean to sing. At least he had tried.

Then they were standing in the bedroom, just like before. Except this time Lucio was more than ready to be here.

“So,” he said, “What’s it mean to do things your way?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.” Jean tried to assure him.

“No, really, Jean. What’s it mean?” Lucio had to ask, “Because I’ve never done this with anyone before.”

“So your mojitos aren’t the only thing virgin about you?” Baptiste teased playfully, “What are you hoping it means?”

Lucio thought for a moment. “Slow?” 

“It will be slow as molasses.” Baptiste promised, taking his time dragging his knuckles along Lucio’s arm.

Lucio continued. “Gentle?”

Baptiste leaned in, his voice but a whisper. “Gentle as a feather.” He promised, tips of his fingers softly trailing down Lucio’s face.

“Sweet?” he asked. He was nervous, excited but nervous, and he didn’t think he could handle anything harsh or rough off the bat.

“Sweet as sugar,” Jean promised, nuzzling his cheek against Lucio’s, “And just as satisfying.”

Reassured, Lucio’s shoulders relaxed. “Okay,” he said, “Let’s do this your way.”

“First thing first, I’m going to ask you, as I did last night,...” Baptiste said, dropping a quick kiss onto Lucio’s cheek. “Have you recently been tested for STD’s?”

Lucio’s jaw clicked shut at the question. That was not the flirtaious come-on he had been expecting.

“Yeah, I’m clean.” he answered. Vishkar always ran an assortment of tests on him. That was one of them, probably to make sure that he wasn’t sneaking around. He didn’t know how he could. The bars of his cage were very tight.

“I asked yesterday, but all I got was a mumbled ‘uh-huh’ and ‘s’okay’. I had thought you were nervous, not having a panic attack.” he sighed, “Now here’s how this is going to go. We don’t want another panic attack, right?”

Definitely not. “Right.”

“So I’m going to check in on you often, make sure you’re not shutting down and here’s the system.” he said, “When I ask, you’re gonna give me one of three answers. Green means ‘I”m great, keep going’, Yellow means ‘I need a second, slow down’, and Red means ‘stop immediately’ and I will, no questions asked. Do you understand?”

“Green means go, yellow means hold up, red means stop.” Lucio repeated.

**“Good. Please use them whenever you need, whether I ask or not,” he said, cupping Lucio’s cheek in his warm hand, “Can I take your shirt off?”

“Yeah-” Lucio raised his arms up as Baptiste peeled the shirt off of him. Holy shit. He was actually doing this. And with a gorgeous guy too. Oh my God.

His shirt flung away, Baptiste’s hand trailed up his arm, tracing the dips and curves of his muscles. His eyes were dark and the husky words on his lips sent a shiver down Lucio’s spine.

“Have you ever masturbated before?”

What he asked finally registered, and Lucio realized it was the chill of the room giving him shivers down his shirtless back, and Lucio leaned back and looked up at him, eyes squinting at the surprise question.

“Don’t give me that look.” Baptise said, “I asked you last time-”

“I don’t remember that-” he admitted. 

“Seems you were not mentally present at the time because of your panicking. At least I can reuse all my pick-up lines.” Baptiste teased, “So, have you?”

Lucio’s face grew warm as he debated how to answer. Yeah, he had done some downstairs dj’ing, who hadn’t? But thinking about it and verbalizing it were two different things.

“Yeah.” he admitted slowly, unsure of why _that_ mattered right now.

“Good!” Baptiste said brightly. “That means you know what feels good, what pleasure feels like, and what you like. You know your body, that’s good!”

Lucio’s face burned at the surprise pep talk. “Thanks?” 

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Masturbation, as long as it’s not to the detrimental levels of an addiction, can be healthy and quite beneficial.” Baptiste explained, “It reduces stress and tension, relieves pain, enhances sleep quality and concentration, improves sex-”

“Jean-” Lucio bit back a laugh as the human encyclopedia in front of him rambled, “Your dirty talk’s turned into a nerdy talk.”

Baptiste laughed at himself. “My apologies, I do talk too much sometimes, don’t I?” he said, stepping closer and cupping Lucio’s jaw, “So you want dirty talk? It’s been a while, quite a while actually,… Let me see if I still have it.”

He gently coaxed Lucio’s face up and kissed the top of his cheekbone. “ _Tu as de beaux yeux_ ,” Jean purred into his ear before he began kissing along Lucio’s jaw, tracing his lips with his thumb, _“J’adore ton sourire.”_

As he listened to Jean’s unfairly sultry voice, Lucio’s face _burned._ The French leaving his lips sounded positively _sinful_ and Lucio’s cock twitched in his pants as Jean’s warm breath caressed his ear. Jean wasn’t just talking dirty, he was playing dirty, pulling out the big guns right off the bat.

“Oh my God,” he rasped, his hand laying gently on top of Baptiste’s. The other man grinned devilishly and nipped at his ear lobe before he continued.

 _“Je suis fou de toi. Je veux être avec toi.”_ he said with a moan, his tongue swiping along the shell of his ear. He grabbed Lucio’s hips and began to walk him backwards towards the bed. “ _Embrasse-moi_?”

His head dipped down, his lips brushing against Lucio’s, giving him a second to pull away. Lucio’s hands embraced Jean’s cheeks and he pulled him in for a kiss. It was soft and sweet, and just felt so _right_ , like this is where his lips had always been destined to be.

As their lips met, Lucio’s legs hit the bed and they fell backwards together. Jean managed to catch himself on his forearms, keeping himself from pinning Lucio for now.

“ _En haut. Se lever. Sur le lit.”_ he said, motioning to the bed. 

All Lucio could do was tilt his head. “ _O que você disse?_ ” he said in Portuguese.

Jean sat up on his elbows. “What did you say?” he asked.

“That’s what I’m asking you,” Lucio replied. “I don’t understand French, Jean.”

“...I wasn’t sure if you did or not. You were very receptive to my...uh… flirtations.” he said, his head lifting up and glancing between Lucio and the head of the bed. “Um, right, sorry. Let’s get on the bed properly, was what I was trying to say.”

“I can do that.” Lucio said. They awkwardly climbed onto the bed and Lucio flopped down onto the pillows dramatically. “Okay, um, can we keep going?”

Jean straddled him, holding himself up on his elbows and knees. He leaned in close to Lucio. 

_“Omelette du fromage?”_ he said testingly, and Lucio’s nose wrinkled as he pressed his head back into the pillows and looked up at him.

“Okay, so it turns out I know exactly **_one_ ** _French_ , Jean-Baptiste.” he said, faking an insulted tone, “And I am no omelette.”

Jean’s face broke out in a sheepish, guilty smile. “I-” Baptiste began to laugh, struggling to speak, “I’m sorry. You said you didn’t know- I was wondering if it was just _French_ that would get you we- I- I’m sorry. You- I- Omelette-”

Then he lost it. His shoulders shook as he faceplanted into the pillow, his head next to Lucio’s. His muffled laughter, uncontrollable as it was infectious, had Lucio laughing with him in a heartbeat.

Finally, gasping for air, Jean lifted his head back up. “You are-” he laughed, “You are no ome-” another laugh, “You are no omelette,” he finally said, struggling to keep himself together, “You- But you sure get me egg-cited-” he laughed again. “Or- Or is that too cheesy? Ah-”

And then for another minute, he was laughing and crying into the pillow once more. His laugh was smooth as the rest of him, a deep, beautiful sound, despite how he was howling into the pillow.

Then he finally came up for air, trying to calm himself with deep, even breaths in and out.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, wiping at his damp face. “I’m tired and I’m just so grateful I get to spend more time with you… _Tu me rends heureuse.”_

“What’s that mean?”

“You make me happy.” Jean translated. He took a second to breathe before he spoke again. “What’s your color, Lu?” he asked, his eyes meeting Lucio’s.

“Green as can be,” Lucio assured him, patting at his arm, “Omelette you finish, but you haven’t scared me off yet, Jean, you nerd, despite the puns.”

“Don’t get me started again, Sunshine, or else I’ll never stop.” Jean said, kissing Lucio on the cheek. “I’ve gotta put work into my dirty talk it seems. I can’t get away with, say, reciting the dictionary.”

“You reciting the dictionary might put me to sleep. Your voice is so soothing.” Lucio told him.

“Soothing is the last thing I want to be right now.” Jean said as he sat upright. His fingers danced, unbuttoning his shirt with a practiced efficiency. He threw it to the side and looked down at Lucio’s prone form. “Now. Where were we?”

Jean had straightened himself up and calmed himself down now. He had had his fun, had some laughs, but that look in his eyes made it clear that he was getting them right back on track. No more time-wasting, He was back and he was all business, and Lucio was _here_ for it.

Baptiste smiled as he saw Lucio’s eyes light up in excitement and got right back to it. He surged forward, capturing Lucio’s lips and taking the kiss straight to the deep end. Lucio moaned as Baptiste’s tongue slid over his lips, happily parting them. He moaned as the kiss deepened, wrapping his arms around Baptiste’s wide shoulders and held him close.

He gasped as Jean’s hand cupped his groin, squeezing and rubbing at his crotch. His cock began to twitch and Lucio’s hips bucked against his hand, a weezy whine escaping his throat.

Jean was immediately by his side, his lips brushing against his ear as he whispered. “Color?” he asked quietly.

“Green.”

Baptiste hummed in acknowledgement, and the pressure on Lucio’s groin increased. “How far do you want to go tonight, Lu?” he asked, speaking between the kisses and nips he was leaving on Lucio’s neck.

“As far as you’ll take me, Jean-Baptiste. I think...,” Lucio paused and said with a smile, “tonight has turned into one of those sometimes I want to _dance_ with somebody.”

Baptiste understood. No more words were needed. The twosome both wanted to tango and Lucio was telling him to lead.

He pushed himself forward and opened up a drawer on the bedside table, blindly fishing around, and almost falling over, until he found what he was looking for. He put the condoms and lube on top of the table, leaving them within easy reach when he was ready to use them.

He unfastened Lucio’s pants with ease and Lucio lifted his hips up, assisting him in getting them off and out of the way. As Jean stripped Lucio and himself down, the whole time, he would keep checking on Lucio’s color, talking to him between planting kisses on his body. And everytime, Lucio would answer honestly. “Green.”

Lube coating his fingers, Jean’s finger circled Lucio’s tight hole, hesitating. “You’re sure?” he asked.

Lucio nodded, hip twitch nervously on Jean’s lap. “Go slow.” he reminded Jean.

“Slow as honey, dripping down a dipper,” Jean promised, his finger teasing the entrance, “Relax, Lu.”

Body tense as a tightrope, Lucio looked up at him. “I am relaxed.” he said through a clenched jaw.

“Deep breaths, Sunshine,” Baptiste cooed soothingly, “In and out, Lu. It’s gonna feel good, I promise.”

After a long minute of waiting on Lucio’s body to finally loosen up, the digit was carefully slipping inside and Lucio was sucking in air through clenched teeth, his body tensing around the finger.

With Baptiste’s silky smooth voice reassuring him, and a slow pace that kept him from being overwhelmed, he was soon bucking his hips against his hand, wanting more. Baptiste obliged him and soon a second finger was joining the first.

Jean’s pace began to increase and he leaned forward, kissing up and down his chest, tongue teasing one of his nipples. His other hand dug into Lucio’s hip, keeping him steady as his fingers quickly slid in and out of Lucio’s hole,

A familiar pressure was building in the pit of his stomach, his cock rock hard. It was a feeling that he knew well. He was about to come. He didn’t want to, not yet, it was too soon.

“ _Yello- ooh._ ” he moaned and the pace instantly slowed into something far more manageable. His hole clenched against the fingers as he panted, hips twitching with a whine.

He looked up at Baptiste through lidded eyes. The man was analyzing Lucio and making sure that he was alright. “Fuck me.” Lucio pleaded, unable to think of a polite way to ask. “No more- no more teasing. Please Jean. I can’t stand the teasing. Please. _Please._ ”

“Are you sure?” Jean asked, fingers twitching uncertainly inside of Lucio. “Green?”

“Gr- _een,_.” Lucio moaned and nodded. “However you want me. Green.”

That was all it took for Jean’s patience to wane and for him to stretch and grab the condom off of the dresser. That was all it took for him to rip it open with his teeth as he teased his own cock, getting himself rock hard. That was all it took for him to angle himself above Lucio before he pulled back, changing his mind.

He pulled Lucio up, flipping the eager man over with ease. A pillow was shoved under his hips and Jean straddled him, chest pressing heavily against his back.

“Green?” he asked, his cock rubbing against Lucio’s hole, hips twitching eagerly.

“Green.” Lucio said once more, “Go slow.”

“Slow as a lazy summer day.” he promised. With a moment taken to line himself up, his cock was slipping inside. He hissed as Lucio’s tight hole clenched around him.

Baptiste’s arms flanked Lucio’s shoulders and he waited for a few seconds, giving Lucio a chance to adjust, before he began to slowly - ever so slowly - rock against him.

It was awkward at first, the two of them trying to find their rhythms with each other. Neither of them synced up right, and it was messy at times. Baptiste then took the lead, setting the pace, and Lucio followed right along with him.

Hands held the blanket tightly as the two of them moaned at the sensations. Sometimes Lucio surprised him by slipping in a new rhythm, bucking back against him, with Baptiste needing less than a second to recover and return the favor.

Their moves grew bolder. A hand slipped down Lucio’s back, resting on his hip, and he was pulled closer. Baptiste arched his back, chest almost rolling against Lucio’s. Lucio found himself pressing into the touch, their bodies flush.

Baptiste’s hand wrapped around his front, closing the small gap between them, and holding Lucio tightly against him as they continued to rock to their own beat.

A hand tugged at Lucio’s hair, pulling his head back, and eliciting a moan as the pain set fire to his frying nerves. Then the hand gripped under his chin, holding his head up and in place, exposed to Jean’s ready and waiting lips, as he was pounded from behind.

Baptiste felt him lean into his hand and groan as grip on his jawbone grew tighter. “I’m n-not touching the neck with m’hands, don’t- don’t ask, I don’t- don’t-” he rasped, his other hand roughly playing with Lucio’s perky pecs, squeezing the muscles and tugging at his nipples, “Strangulation can go wrong f-fast. It’s not a spur of, ah- ah, the moment thing. Cutting off the air supply is dangerous - oh yes, _mon Dieu_ , I love you- not worth the adrenaline rush, ever, n-not to me.”

“Jea- nnh, B-Baptiste-” Lucio tried to speak through his open-mouth panting, not really in the mood for another lesson right now.

Jean bucked aggressively, cutting him off. “Everywhere else you’ll give me? I’ll ta-ake it. Every piece.” he tugged Lucio’s hair again, pulling him upright, with the help of the hand already on his chest, and shifted. Lucio’s chest was pressed against the wall at the head of the bed, his sweaty back glued to Jean’s front, “ _Est-ce que tu m'aimes? Je t'aime.”_ he continued, moaning against Lucio’s throat.

Lucio didn’t last much longer, not with a cock in his ass and French in his ear. Jean held him steady as he came, hands pinning his wrists and body pressing him tightly against the wall, his body bucking in ecstasy and white flashing before his eyes.

His body spent, he fell back against Baptiste, whose pace had slowed. While he had slowed, he clearly wasn’t finished yet. His lips kissed the underside of Lucio’s jaw and his hand snaked around Lucio’s waist, encircling his cock and he began to gently pump, overstimulating Lucio further.

“Y- Ye- ellow.” Lucio pleaded. It was quickly becoming too much, and thankfully Jean listened, letting go of his cock and instead bracing that arm against the wall by Lucio’s head. 

Baptiste’s breathing was loud in his ear, ragged, and his pace grew rougher as he neared his brink. An arm looped back around Lucio’s chest, the other braced on the wall, holding him in pace as he bucked harder

Then, with a barely bit back cry of “ _Je vais éjaculer vigoureusement,”_ Jean was shaking, the arm around Lucio squeezing a wheezy yip out of him, the sound like that of a broken squeaky toy. If Jean hadn’t been otherwise occupied, he would have found the sound both hilarious and concerning.

**Baptiste trembled as he crashed back down to earth, slowly pulling back out of Lucio once he had landed. He removed the condom and tied it off, setting it aside for future Jean to deal with in a few minutes.

He dragged Lucio down into the bed with him, spooning him, holding him gently until Lucio’s looking him in the eyes, present once more.

“Hello, mojito,” he says, returning Lucio’s tired smile with one of his own. “Hello, beautiful. How are we feeling?”

“Oh my God,” was all Lucio could say, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome?” Baptiste said curiously, sneaking in a quick kiss onto Lucio’s cheek, “Let’s clean up. That sound good?”

It did. After cleaning themselves up, and putting on some pants, they were soon under the blankets and turning out the light in the room. 

This time there was no pretense of staying to their own side of the bed. Lucio went ahead and hugged Baptiste’s side, with Jean’s arm pulling him closer, sighing contentedly as they shared their warmth.

“Good night, Lu.” Jean said quietly, “ _Tu es ma joie de vivre._ ”

And while Lucio didn’t speak French, he understood. “I love you too.” he said.

They lay down and slept peacefully that night, exhausted by how late it was as well as having worn each other out. There was no worry for once, no stress. Just the peace that came from finding somewhere, and someone, to belong. A night that Lucio wished could have lasted forever.

\---

His phone lay on the counter, the battery long since having died. It was motionless and soundless, despite the messages that had already come through that very night. Messages that Lucio had yet to see.

 _-Lucio?_ Satya had texted.

_-Are you doing alright?_

_-Please message me ASAP_

_-Did you find your mystery man?_

_-Something’s come up, Lucio._

_-I’m sorry, Lucio. I’m so sorry._

_-There’s been a change of plans._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Tu as de beaux yeux: You have beautiful eyes  
> J’adore ton sourire: I love your smile.  
> Je suis fou de toi: I'm crazy about you  
> Je veux être avec toi: I want to be with you.  
> Embrasse-moi: Kiss me?  
> En haut. Se lever. Sur le lit.: Up. Get up. On the bed.  
> O que você disse?: What did you say?  
> Omelette du fromage?: Cheese omelette (I regret nothing btw)  
> Tu me rends heureuse: You make me happy.  
> mon Dieu: My God   
> Est-ce que tu m'aimes?: Do you love me?  
> Je t'aime: I love you.  
> Je vais éjaculer vigoureusement: I am going to ejaculate vigorously  
> Tu es ma joie de vivre: You’re the joy of my life.  
> \---  
> Kudos, comments, and feedback are always super appreciated!
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3
> 
> Questions, comments, or concerns? Hit me up on here or on my Twitter: https://twitter.com/KittenzCaboodle


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Chapter warnings  
> Abuse mention  
> Mention of pineapple on pizza  
> Useless Lesbian(s) Alert
> 
> Happy reading! <3

Both Baptiste and Lucio were early risers, out of habit or necessity, or perhaps by the habit of necessity. 

Lucio’s mornings were usually booked solid from the second he opened his eyes, packing his schedule full to make the most of his time. Baptiste had grown to love those early hours of quiet, finding his own kind of zen in the morning. The mornings spent sleeping in were few and far between for them both.

But today was one of those mornings. It wasn’t until around ten o’clock that either of them even opened their eyes, and all they chose to do was snuggle closer to the other.

And even after they were both awake, there was no hurry to rise. Jean didn’t have any work today and Lucio had nowhere else he would rather be.

Neither of them had planned on having a round of morning sex, but kisses turned into heavy petting before they could blink. Then Lucio was reaching after Jean, who had dared to get up, and pulling him back into bed. Jean retaliated by dragging Lucio into his lap, checking his color the whole time, with his hand down the front of his pants, and Lucio was happily arching into the touch.

It wasn’t until almost eleven that they took a shower together, to wash the sweat off of their bodies and have another excuse to touch each other, soapy hands trailing along damp skin, further exploration under the guise of assistance. 

Finally, they were getting dressed. Lucio was in the middle of tugging on his shirt when Jean spoke, “I like the tattoo on your shoulder,” he said, “It’s artsy.”

Lucio looked down at his shoulder. He didn’t know why he did. He knew that the tattoo was there and exactly what it looked like. “It’s a frog,” he said chipperly, turning his shoulder so that Jean could see it better.

“Any reason or you just like frogs?” he asked with a smile.

“I do like frogs, yeah, but it’s more than that,” Lucio explained. “It’s a giant monkey frog. They’re from the Amazon and they’re used in Kambo healing ceremonies.”

“Kambo healing…? Do they kill the frogs?” Jean asked hesitantly.

“No! No, no.” Lucio said quickly. “They collect the poison from captured frogs, from their legs, and then release them. They’re fine. I would have never gotten this if they killed them-”

“Learn something new every day.” Jean murmured, “So why that frog in particular? Have you done Kambo before?”

“No.” he answered, “I like the idea of a person, or a frog, being able to help people feel better. That, even with how _small_ they are, they’re enough to improve the world and make someone’s life somewhere better.”

“You are enough,” Jean assured him, catching on to what he was saying. “You’ve changed my life, Lu. You don’t realize how much you have. However, I’m not giving you the nickname ‘giant monkey frog’. You’re still my ‘sunshine’, my ‘mojito’, my Lu.”

“You’re not the only one whose life’s been changed, Jean,” Lucio said, finally pulling his shirt back on. “I can promise you that.”

They both headed to the kitchen, with Jean going to the fridge and pouring himself a green juice shot. “What are your plans today, Lu?” he asked after he drank, smacking his lips as he tried to wipe the taste of the shot out of his mouth.

“I have to go back to my hotel,” Lucio said, heading towards the couch, “I’ve got to go grab my charging cable for my phone and text Satya before she starts to worry.”

He picked up his phone and clicked the power button once more just to make sure and, yeah, it was dead.

“I see. Which hotel were you at again?”

“The Horizon Suites. It’s a really cool place.” Lucio replied, “It’s got a restaurant inside and it’s famous for its indoor vegetation, like tropical gardens and rivers inside the hotel. There’s even a boat tour on the river.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of those gardens,” Baptiste said, snapping his fingers in recognition. “I’ve never taken the time to see them, though. They sound fascinating.”

“You want to come with me? Are you free today?” Lucio asked, getting a nod in return. “I’ll go up to the room and grab my cord, and then we could do brunch at the hotel and then walk around the place. You want to?”

“I’d love to.” Jean said with a smile, looking down at the clothes he threw on. “I should probably change into something nicer, if I’m going to walk around the Horizon.”

“Just put on your nicest Hawaiian shirt,” Lucio said with a shrug, “We don’t have to dress up to walk around the place. No one really does.”

“I feel like you’re making fun of me, but that’s exactly what I was about to do,” Baptiste admitted. “One of the nicer shirts, anyway.”

Dressed to the sevens (not quite the nines) in dark jeans and a slick black Hawaiian shirt, with red and white hibiscuses' and palm leaves decorating the left half of the short in a dynamic yet linear freefall pattern, Baptiste set out with Lucio. He sent Olivia a quick text, just to let her know where he had disappeared to, just in case she needed to know.

Lucio didn't have it in him to care what he himself was wearing right now. He had been wearing these clothes for three days. Maybe he would change once they got to the room.

They opted to walk to the hotel, with Baptiste and Luico both dressed warmly in their coats, with a borrowed scarf and gloves adorning Lucio's body. He was also wearing the purple hoodie at Jean’s insistence, to try to stave off the bitter chill of their walk.

Baptiste also had gloves and a scarf, as well as his fanny pack strapped around his front, prepared as always for anything and everything short of a meteor strike.

Sooner rather than later, they were walking through a rotating door and standing in the lobby of the hotel. It was a massively wide open room, with screens detailing hotel events and the company meetings taking place on nearly every wall. There were interactive kiosks on the floor as well as numerous badged employees ready and willing to help.

Baptiste let out a low whistle as he looked around, unsure of what to focus on in the midst of all the hustle and bustle on the floor. "Lead the way, Lu."

Lucio guided them down a long hall, past a souvenir store and mini-market, past the west wing conference rooms and the newest pool expansion with mini-rapids, and got them to an elevator. This glass elevator was in the Lucheng wing, where Lucio's room was located. 

Up they went, ten stories high, and Lucio led him down the long, convoluted, horribly brightly carpeted halls. Then, keycard retrieved from his wallet, he unlocked the door.

The suite he stayed in was fairly large, especially for one person. There was a living space full of chairs and tables, perfect for hosting family or friends. The kitchen was full of appliances and a fridge, perfect for people who actually spent time in their rooms over their stay. The single bedroom contained a queen bed and off of it, there was a full bathroom, complete with a jacuzzi.

“Give me just a second,” Lucio said as he headed to the bedroom, “I”m gonna change into something else. That’s not… this.” he motioned up and down his body, gesturing to the clothes he had been wearing for most of his time in New York.

“I wasn’t sure you had other clothes. I thought that was your uniform,” Baptiste teased, standing uneasily in the room, “And that maybe you were like a video game character who only ever wears one outfit total.

Lucio laughed at the thought. Him? A video game character? Ha!

The first thing he did once he entered the room was grab his charging cord and a plug. He was sure that there would be somewhere in the restaurant that he could charge his phone.

The next thing he did was change into a new outfit, a snug yellow henley and a pair of jeans, layered under a dark green bomber jacket. Comfortable, casual, but nicer than sweatpants and a hoodie.

He folded up the hoodie and left it on his bed. He would give it back to Jean once they were done eating and walking around The Horizon. That was the plan.

Exiting the room, he spied Jean slowly about to sit in a seat, unsure if his bottom was justified sitting on such luxury, but he immediately straightened up and hopped upright once he caught sight of Lucio.

“Ready to eat?” Lucio asked, stuffing his cord into his pocket. His phone and wallet had already been pocketed in his jeans.

“Absolutely.” Baptiste replied, looking him up and down. “You look nice.”

“Thanks,” Lucio headed for the door and Jean followed, but then he paused. “Do you want your hoodie back now? I was thinking of giving it back later once we were done.”

“That works for me.” Baptiste replied. “Where are we eating?”

“There’s a place down by the west side that’s pretty casual. Has some French food too, I think. A French-American blend of options,” Lucio answered.

“French, huh? Sounds great,” Baptiste said happily, “After you, Lu.”

With that, moving on, Lucio was leading them back downstairs, taking him past a modern, neon-lit bar, past the Harold’s Heroes hall, where pictures of notable New Yorkers decorated the wall, and down to the restaurant. It was located by the west entrance, down in the P.B. Winston wing.

 _Hammond Cheze_ was the name of the place, a more casual, but French, dining experience as opposed to the fancier eateries along the riverwalk that scaled in ambience as quickly as they did in foofery and price . The hostess sat them at a two-top by an outlet at Lucio’s request, and before Jean could say anything, Lucio was giving the waiter his room number for the coming charges.

“Order anything you want.” Lucio said, “Whatever sounds good, Jean. Don’t hold back. Today, I’m treating you to a good time and don’t you dare argue with me about it.”

“I-thank you, Lu, I wouldn’t dare to.” Baptiste replied. “Well, it’s going to take a bit here to decide. Give me a moment.”

Baptiste and Lucio took their time looking over the menu. Lucio noticed that his phone’s message light was on. He picked it up, clicked his phone, on, and his eyes widened as he read the long string of messages he had been sent.

 _Lucio? Please respond. I haven’t heard from you._ Satya had texted today.

_Please don’t give me the silent treatment. I tried to argue and let you have the last day. I fought for you. I lost but I tried. They Sanjay wouldn’t hear of it._

_Are you angry with me? I hope you’re not._

_I’ll be in New York this morning to escort you back tomorrow morning. You should be glad it’s me and not one of Sanjay’s security officers. They won’t be as kind._

_Have you even read these? Where are you?_

_You’re not in your room. I’ll be walking around the Horizon today while I wait for you. Please text me where you are. I’m getting worried._

He was so distracted reading his messages, that he missed the sound of heels clicking, walking by his table. He missed the waiter greeting a new customer, giving his usual spiel about the specials and leaving her a menu.

But he didn’t miss the next text.

_Found you._

His head shot up and he saw her sitting at the next table, staring at him from behind Baptiste’s back, dark blue trench coat cinched tightly at her waist and a light blue scarf was wrapped tightly around her neck. Her gloved fingers were laced, elbows resting on the table, and her chin rested on her hands.

She. Looked. Pissed.

Her face was stern, and her eyes were stony. She looked tired and angry, worried and exhausted, and Lucio began to panic. Baptiste heard him gasp and looked at him curiously.

“Is everything alright?” he asked, eyes dancing between Lucio and the phone in his hand.

“Fine! Fine.” Lucio tried to assure him, casting one last glance Satya’s way. She raised a brow at him and let a hand fall, reaching for the menu, sending him one more look to let him know that he was in trouble.

Baptiste noticed Lucio’s look behind him and quickly spun around, elbow on the back of his seat as he surveyed the room. If Satya hadn’t just begun to peruse the menu herself, holding it in front of her face, then Jean would have seen her.

“It’s okay. I just-” Lucio blew out a breath. “It’s fine. There’s… just so _many_ choices on the _menu_ and they _all_ sound _great_.”

Baptiste sent him one more suspicious look before he shrugged and moved on. “Indeed.” he agreed.

It looked like Satya was going to let him and Jean enjoy a meal together, probably just ordering a cup of coffee to sip while she waited. 

After that? Who knows what she would do.  
  
Would she introduce herself? Demand to know who Jean was? Would she namedrop Lucio, destroying his simple identity of Lu? She probably would. She didn’t know that he had found happiness in being someone else, someone that wasn't him

His mind raced, trying to figure out how to handle any possible scenario that arose. Unfortunately, there were too many ways that it could go wrong. He couldn’t plan for all of them.

He didn’t have to. A man - so short maybe he was teen, though who was Lucio to talk? - walked by, clad in a baggy hoodie and jeans, boots thumping on the floor as he walked by. His hood was pulled up, resting on top of a ballcap pulled low, hiding whoever he was, and a large backpack was hanging on his shoulders.

He made a beeline for Satya, arms opening wide in greeting as quiet words were said. Satya stood and was pulled into a long, long, very long, awkwardly long hug, and then the guy slowly began to walk away, tugging his hat over his face as he passed by their table.

And much to Lucio’s surprise, with one last look sent his way, her eyes dark, she grabbed her purse off the back of the chair and followed him outside.

Lucio watched her leave, confused, but reassured himself a moment later. She knew what she was doing. She always did. She would text him and let him know what was up. 

And until she did, all he had to do was make the most of today; the last day he was getting to spend with Jean.

\------

Satya Vaswani had hoped and prayed for an easy day today. The last few days had been awful, painful, and stressful, and all she wanted was a simple day to catch up with Lucio and to relax before they had to go back.

She should have known that it wouldn’t be easy. Nothing ever was.

Her flight had been stressful, with her checking her phone when permissible, concerned about Lucio’s lack of response.

Then she had landed and gone straight to the hotel, asking the front desk to call his room. When she got no reply there, she resigned herself to spending her day at the hotel, trying to catch him again tonight. He had to come back to his room at some point.

And then, as she wandered through the Hall of Heroes for the umpteeth time, she heard his voice, talking and laughing with someone else. She caught sight of him and followed from a distance, getting seated right behind his table.

His phone was plugged in. It must have been running low, or even run out of battery. While it explained the lack of responses, it was no excuse. He should have been keeping an eye on it.

Then she eyed the wide shoulders of his lunchmate. Lucio’s eyes were shining as he looked up at the man, and he was smiling and laughing in a way that Satya hadn’t heard for a while.

Was this his mystery man? Had he found the man he had been looking for?

Well, then, she would let them eat in peace and introduce herself afterwards. It was unprofessional to interrupt, and, if Lucio was attempting to negotiate him into considering singing Lucio’s new track, then she wouldn’t dare to.

The plan had been just to have a cup of coffee while she waited, one with cinnamon and almond milk she decided, when someone was approaching her table.

“ _Hola,”_ said the woman, dressed like a hobo as the baggy clothes hung from her body. Satya assumed it was someone asking for money, or to sign a petition of some kind, until she continued. “Satya Vaswani?”

Her head shot up and she looked into the woman’s eyes, a cocky smirk on her purple lips. “C’mere,” she continued, arms opening for an embrace, “Give me a hug, pretty lady, we need to talk.”

“I’d rather not.” Satya replied coldly to the hispanic woman. “I think I would like to stay seated.”

“I think you would too, but I also think you wouldn’t want me to be talking too loudly about your client, Lucio, famous masked DJ, sitting unmasked behind me, right?” she said, “Or do you want me to scream about him, juuuuust to make sure you can hear me right in this busy, busy place?”

Satya’s eyes flicked to Lucio and then back to the woman, and she reluctantly stood. Arms were wrapped around her, holding her in place, as lips neared her ear.

“How do you know?” Satya asked, seething inside.

“Got an app on his phone that’s been copying _aaaaall_ his information. Every picture he’s ever taken, every message he’s sent and been sent, every search he’s done, everything.” the woman answered, “I’ve got it all on a memory card in my pocket. I’m here to give you a heads up.”

“What sort of heads up?”

“You know how he loves his privacy? How his face being hidden gives him freedom to do what he wants? Like eat in public?” she said, nodding to the table behind them, “It would be a shame if someone sold his information and compromised him. What would happen to him if he lost his amni-... any- anyani-... anomin-”

Satya leaned back and watched the girl’s face grow red as she struggled.

“Take your time.” Satya told her.

“Anomo-... Anoni- Anonm-... Amonin- Amoniminity- Anominitty-” she blew out a breath. “I rehearsed this like ten times. It went so much better in my head.”

“Anonymity?” Satya finished for her.

“Yeah, that.” the woman nodded, “Anominimititty.”

Close enough.

“What’s your point?” Satya asked, looking down at the shorter woman, making the most of the height her boots gave her.

“My point being that the seven o’clock news would be an ideal time for the info to leak. People out of work, relaxing at home.... Any later than that… nah.” she said, “So if someone were to, say, sell the info, between now and seven would be an ideal time.”

“Are you threatening him?”

“Threatening? No. Never.”

“Extortion then?”

“Ew. Also, illegal.” the woman said, “No, I’m just a friend giving friendly advice… you don’t want this info sent out? You better make sure I don’t get the chance.”

“And how do you _advise_ I do that?”

“Keep an eye on me, I guess, until seven o’clock rolls by,” the woman said with a shrug, “Hard to send it out if you’re there to stop me, right, friend? Whatever you want to do, Miss Vaswani. I’m not going to tell you that...”

And without another word, the woman turned and began walking out of the establishment.

The world moved in slow-motion as Satya watched her leave. Did she stay here and finally catch Lucio-?

No, she couldn’t. According to her _friend_ she had to stop her from sending out the information. She didn’t understand _how_ she was going to stop her, - if the woman wanted to send the information, what could Satya even do? - but it was clear that she had to try.

Lucio was her client, her friend, and she was supposed to protect him.. She was going to, like she had always done. If going after that woman was enough to stop her, then it was what she would do.

Without a second thought, she grabbed her purse and walked quickly, chasing down the woman. Satya caught sight of her walking through a revolving door to the outside.

Hurrying over to the door, Satya watched as the woman did another lap in the door, looping back around in time for Satya to join her in the narrow gap and the awkward walk and push to the outside.

“Well, hi there.” the woman said with a wink, “I’m going to a park right now. How’s that sound?”

“It sounds _fine,_ **_friend._ ** **”** Satya hissed, resigning herself to yet another mess she had to clean up.

All she had wanted was for today to be easy. Just one day. Nothing more than that.

But, as she came to realize, today wasn’t as bad as she initially thought. Olivia, as she found out her “captor”’s name was, seemed to have no intention of sending in the information, or else she was just toying with Satya until the last minute.

The park didn’t have wifi and all they did there was walk a slow lap of the place, with Olivia rambling about the different places that they could go to next, telling Satya that the goal of their excursion around the park was to work up an appetite.

She talked much, and Satya listened, finding herself enjoying learning about her cap- Olivia. Olivia chatted about her job, her hobbies, her skills, her likes and dislikes… It was like Satya was being given a speed-introduction to the woman.

Satya did talk as well, though not as much, offering prompts and answering the questions asked, such as... 

What’s your favorite color? (Olivia’s was purple. Satya was partial to blue, though light blue was her favorite blue).

What do you do for fun? (Meditation and yoga)

No, like, for _fun?_ (Sometimes she liked to cook, but most days she was too tired. Reading was fun).

What are you reading? (A book on entertainment legalities highly recommended by a close and trusted friend).

Well, that doesn’t sound fun, Olivia had said. Have you ever read That’s the Way the Cookie Crumbles? (Apparently it was a culinary mystery)

No, Satya had said.

Me neither, Olivia then replied with a shrug, leaving Satya befuddled about why she had even asked in the first place.

Olivia's stomach then rumbled and she asked one more question?

_You hungry, Satya?_

Receiving a reluctant yes in reply, she then took them to a quaint bakery, where she ordered herself a massive cookie sandwich filled with cream cheese.

“What do you want?” she asked Satya.

Satya had been left skimming over the menu. “I’m vegan.” she said, unsure if there was anything that fit her dietary preference.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize...” Olivia had said, placing a consoling hand on her arm, “How long have you known?”

Together, with the help of employee assistance, they found her a vegan cheesecake slice, topped with raspberries and on a dark chocolate brownie crust. As they found a small table in the back of the bakery, Olivia put down her bag and began to strip.

Off came the hoodie and hat, revealing a tight, long, gray turtleneck sweater, with two holes cut out at the shoulders and a keyhole opening at her chest. Then she shucked the pants off and undernearth her baggy sweats was a pair of black skinny jeans.

She folded the clothes and stuffed them into her backpack, making sure she pulled out a short parka first, complete with a faux-fur lined hood. She was tugging her arms into her coat’s sleeves when she sat back down.

Satya looked her over, finding herself admiring how neatly her hair had uncoiled from under the hat, falling beautifully, with no kinks of any kind. In fact, her eyes roamed more than she would have admitted, looking over at how put together she was now, a stark contrast to the messy clothes she had been hiding under.

The sweater clung to her body with no winkles of any kind and, while she wasn’t the biggest fan of the shoulder cut-outs, at least they were symmetrical, and at least the chest cut out, revealing a peek of her busty cleavage, was even all the way through. The color combination was sleek and the textures paired well together, with the chunkiness of the sweater contrasting cleanly with the slick jeans.

She had not expected someone this put together was lurking underneath those trashbag pieces of clothing. She had not been prepared for this.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to put on a show,” Olivia teased, “I was tired of you being the only pretty one in the room. Now, powers combined, we’re twice as hot. Look out, world.”

“Mmm.” was all Satya said, the incessant bell on the door, signalling another customer, screaming again. That, combined with all the chatter of everyone around, made it difficult for her to relax.

Watching her wince as the bell rang, Olivia seemed to catch on. “Let’s bounce,” she said already standing, “I want to go sit at the park.”

Satya had to scramble after her, packing up the food and drink she had yet to touch, and hurrying after her. The park, while colder, was much quieter and Satya found herself actually enjoying the meal.

Olivia tended to chatter quite a bit, when her mouth wasn’t getting glued shut by cream cheese, but she was knowledgeable about many topics and made an interesting companion. She knew a lot about the music industry, thanks to her dad she had said, and was very skilled with the background technology that went into musical productions. It was attractive.

Lucio should talk to her sometime, perhaps she could offer advice on his helmet.

Once they were finished, Olivia threw their trash away in a nearby receptacle and returned, planting her hands on the table and leaning over as she spoke.

Satya missed what she said, her eyes dipping towards the cleavage hanging face height, mind wandering, before she snapped back to reality.

Olivia straightened up, a smile on her face like that of a cat who had gotten the cream, and repeated herself. “You like museums?”

“What kind?” Satya asked. She was particular about how she spent her time.

“Art?” Olivia offered.

“I do like art museums…” Satya reluctantly admitted. Before she could blink, Olivia’s hand was wrapping around her own, pulling her upright and dragging her on to the next place.

The place they went was not a normal museum, not to Satya, but a gallery of sorts. It was an old factory that had once produced underwater missiles that now housed numerous art collections. Some rooms were just collections, some were studios where artists were actively working. The different mediums were fascinating, from woodwork, to oils, to watercolors, to cloth, to glass, and beyond… It was a playground for an art lover’s mind to run free in and it was amazing.

Olivia even knew some of the artists personally, having gone to school with some of them or working with others, even meeting some at her place of employment. Her social grace and outgoing personality were commendable. Her conversations were smooth, but she was always in control and setting the pace.

And it was no different when she spoke to strangers. Satya had shown interest in a piece of jewelry, a ‘sphere spinner ring’ the card had said. It could lay flat, as all rings did, but could be twisted into a beautifully intricate armillary sphere. The gold was covered with engravings and when unfolded, revealed the celestial lines of longitude, latitude, and the earth’s equator.

She toyed with the display model for a minute, debating whether or not it was worth it, before the artist was in her face, aggressively overselling his product and turning her off. She didn’t like that sort of pressure. 

Olivia took note of her distraction and slid in next to her, pulling the conversation her way and letting Satya make a decision on her own as she tried to think despite the crowd’s noise around her.

She did end up buying it. The last few weeks had been awful and she deserved to treat herself, just a bit. The artist was also sure to let her know that it could be worn as a necklace as well, and Olivia immediately asked for a demonstration, and with what chain exactly was he talking about?

The artist showed them how to do so and Olivia lay the compliments on thick enough that they walked out of there with a complimentary gold chain slipped in Satya’s bag.

By the time they left the gallery, the air outside had gotten colder as the day had grown later. Olivia began to drag Satya somewhere else, assuring the woman that her purchase would be kept safe in her backpack.

She got them a cab and leaned forward to talk to the driver, keeping their location a secret, leaving Satya’s heart pounding in her chest. Where were they going now?

The answer came a few minutes later as they were dropped off, the cab pulling away and leaving them near a beach. There was a salt-water taste in the air and the ocean breeze chill cut deep and left Satya pulling her scarf on tighter. But not too tight. 

There was a cry of a lone seagull in the distance, but beyond that, for the most part, it was silent. The roar of the ocean waves rolling against the sand shore and rocks was calming. Satya’s arms wrapped around herself as she shut her eyes and inhaled, meditating and savouring the blissful peace, letting it engulf her mind and soul-.

“Vegans can’t, like, be allergic to bananas, right?” Olivia’s voice cut in, making Satya open up her eyes. She turned and was greeted by Olivia returning from procuring snacks at nearby booths. “That would be basically illegal. A real ba-no-no.”

“They can be, anyone can, but I’m not.” Satya assured her. Olivia had wanted a small dish of frozen yogurt, despite the chilly weather, and had stood in a second line to get Satya a bowl of whipped bananas, topped with vegan peanut butter chips and a fruit fudge sauce.

Satya eyed what Olivia had chosen. It was tan with spots of color throughout, some of which were not natural. 

“Cake batter,” Olivia told her, looking lovingly at her food, “With extra sprinkles. And chocolate flakes. Have you ever seen a sexier bowl of frozen yogurt?”

They ate their treats, with Satya leaning her back against the pier railing, and Olivia resting her elbows on it. The hums Olivia made as she sucked on her spoon were annoying, frustrating, obnoxious…

And strangely pleasant to the ear. That was also frustrating.

“What a pretty sunset,” Olivia said as she finished eating, looking out into the ocean. Satya turned and saw a beautiful sight.

Yes, the sun and sky reflected beautifully into the water, the sky erupting in oranges, pinks, reds, and purples. The clouds glowed with a new ferocity, soaking in the colors of the sky and beaming proudly. The sun shone brightly as it began to sink down into the ocean, the normally blue-gray waters turned into a canvas that the sky was painting in kind.

But, Satya couldn’t help that her eyes were gravitating towards how the sunset’s light warmed Olivia’s cheeks, how her hair shone in the sun, how the slit in the front of her shirt stretched and widened as her arms lay folded under her ample chest. How the smile on her lips was so subtle and sweet, despite the purple lipstick. 

Satya didn’t like lipstick. It was messy and it got everywhere. It was rarely even, and even if applied perfectly, that perfection was so temporary. She never wore it herself, she didn’t own any, but she could admire a neatly applied paint on the lips. Olivia’s was neat. It was approved.

The serenity of the moment was interrupted by a shrill beep of an alarm. Olivia untucked her arms and tugged a sleeve down, letting her take a look at her wristwatch.

“Oh.” she said disappointedly. “It’s already seven.”

Satya blinked, confused at her statement. “I beg your pardon?”

“It’s already seven,” Olivia sighed. “You held up your end of the barg- the not bargain. Time for me to hold up on mine.”

She watched as Olivia opened up her backpack and balanced her laptop on an arm. Pulling a memory card out of her pocket, she slid it into a slot and she waved Satya in closer before she continued.

A window popped up. Satya recognized some of the thumbnails, those were pictures from Lucio’s phone. The card was full of files, texs, pictures, it looked like anything and everything that had been on his phone was here.

Then Olivia highlighted it all and, with a press of a key, the folder was empty. She then opened up the folder she had on the computer, where she had copied the info, and wiped it too.

She handed Satya the empty memory card. “Reformat it,” she advised, “That will make sure it’s clean.”

Satya put the card into her pocket. “You’re deleting it all?” she asked skeptically. “Just like that?”

“Yep!” Olivia said brightly.

Satya’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Because I was never going to do anything with it. All I had it for in the first place was to background check your boy.” Olivia laughed. “Did you see the handsome guy he was with at the Horizon?”

“I did.”

“That idiot is my best friend. Lu rolled up and bowled him over and my idiot’s heart was gone, just like that.” she said, snapping her fingers. “I had to make sure your idiot was good enough for mine.”

Satya narrowed her eyes. “And your findings showed that…?”

“He’s approved. Lu’s a good kid and would never hurt my idiot. Sweet man, and I’m happy to call him my friend.” she said, “And friends are important to me. Would do anything for them. And I would never _ever_ hurt my friends.”

“So everything you said at the Horizon?...” Satya began.

“Was theoretical? I _guess_ someone could have done that, if they had the info I did.” Olivia said, “I’m sorry, Satya. I saw the texts you sent and I just wanted them one last good day together. That involved getting you out of there so they could have today to themselves.”

Satya began to feel very, very stupid. She had been toyed with all day long and played like a damn fiddle, it seemed. 

All she had wanted was one, nice, easy day. That was still too much to ask, wasn’t it?

Her hands shook, and one grabbed onto the scarf around her neck, squeezing the fabric tightly as she tried not to cry. She had fallen hook, line, and sinker, hadn’t she? Had a few honeyed words thrown her way, someone pretending to show interest, someone she thought cared, and she was so desperate she fell right for it.

And the worst thing? Part of her had believed it. Part of her had dared to think that today could actually work out somehow. Part of her had let herself run away into the fantasy, pretending that it all meant something.

“Satya, I wanted you to know there are no stakes here anymore. I’ve deleted everything. And-” Olivia nervously rubbed a hand up and down her arm, “I was wondering if you would like to stay longer?”

Satya’s fingers had been fidgeting with the cloth of her scarf, but they paused when she heard Olivia. “What?” she asked hoarsely, “Why?”

“I want to spend more time with you. Today was great, and I hope you liked it as much as I did,” Olivia said, “And I want more. But I don’t want you thinking you’re obligated, that you have to stay to protect your idiot. I-... If you want to stay, it’s on your terms now. So, Satya? What do you say? Do you want to hang out for a little longer?”

Satya stared at Olivia, unsure of what to think. Why had Olivia apologized in the first place unless she had something to be _sorry_ about?

“Were you lying to me the whole time?” Satya had to ask. “Was all of this-” she waved in a wide circle, “a lie to keep me happy? To keep me placated without another word?”

“Was what a lie?” Olivia asked, frustrating Satya further.

“Everything!” Satya tried not to scream in frustration, but her voice grew louder than she would have liked. “The park, the bakery, the gallery, the beach, the- the bananas, the- the- the- _you!”_

“I am very much real. As were the bananas-” 

“Was it all a lie so you could have some fun at my expense!? Was I just a joke to you? A game for you to play? _”_ Satya didn’t want to cry. Who was she to yell at this almost stranger? Even if she had been the punching bag once more, it didn’t mean that she had to start swinging herself.

Just because she had dared to dream and want something for once, pretending there were no consequences, didn’t give her the right to grow angry. She had been reading between lines that didn’t exist. There was no one to blame but herself.

“Did I do a bad job planning the day?” Olivia asked quietly. “I tried to pick places I thought you would like. I just had a few pictures to go off of, I didn’t know what to do for you.”

“Wh-”

“Did I guess wrong? I didn’t have much time to plan. I had to start throwing all of this - the plan, his info, a spiel to grab you - together last night. I didn’t sleep much trying to get it all together. ” she continued, “I had a few ideas in mind because I didn’t know what you liked, just your gorgeous face and a few places you two had gone.”

“Gorgeous?” Satya shook her head and focused. “So was it a game?” she asked again. “Were you playing me the whole time?”

“If there was a game, Satya, it was a round of ‘how good a day can I plan for her?’. If there was any fun, it was for us both to have, I promise,” Olivia tried to assure her, teeth gritting as she tried to stay calm. “The only joke here seems to be the one I played on _myself_ , hoping that you weren’t _straight_ and that I might have a _chance_ to get to know you better.”

Satya leaned back, eyes narrowing as she tried to follow along with Olivia’s rambling. “I-...like things straight, and find clean lines and symmetry beautiful,” she said slowly. “But as to me being straight? Not in the slightest. Quite the opposite in fact...”

Olivia’s head tilted back as she eyed Satya suspiciously. “Wait…” she said slowly, “I thought you were angry because you realized that this was a kinda test date thing maybe?...”

“No…” Satya’s lips pursed momentarily. “I was angry because I thought it _wasn’t_ supposed to be one and you were having fun at my expense.”

“Ew, no. That would be so mean. Um, anyway, soooo…” Olivia began, “if I were to say that today _was_ supposed to be a date of some kind and I wanted to keep going, you…?”

“-Would say yes.” Satya replied cautiously, “At least until it was time for me to return to the Horizon.”

“Hate to burst your bubble, _reina_ , but there’s a chance that my idiot might be crashing in your idiot’s bed tonight.” Olivia said, “Do you have a plan B?”

“They might be- oh.” Satya frowned. Vishkar wouldn’t be happy to hear that. Of course, that assumed that they even needed to hear it in the first place. “I hadn’t planned for that.”

“You wanna crash at my place tonight?” Olivia offered. “I got room. We can order dinner… a vegan dinner.”

“It seems I might not have any other choice.” Satya reluctantly agreed. Olivia then began typing quickly on her phone. “What are you doing?”

“Looking up how to eat out a vegan-” Olivia quickly corrected herself, “Eat out with a lesbi-... vegan in New York, I mean.”

Satya leaned against the railing, elbows planted on the wood as she stared out at the ocean, admiring the view. Olivia pocketed her phone and leaned back against it, her shoulder pressing against Satya’s.

“You wanna grab some take-out - one of my favorite Mexican places is on this vegan-approved list - and watch The Princess Bride at my place?” Olivia asked. “I just got it last night.”

“That sounds wonderful.” Satya said, watching as the sun slowly dipped under the horizon.

Satya Vaswani had hoped and prayed for an easy day today. 

She had gotten her wish.

\--------------------------------------------

Satya and Olivia had gone back to her apartment with take-out in tow. Olivia had held the door open for Satya, and the two of them had just been talking about the restaurant they had ordered from, with Olivia talking about how it was very authentic, but their enchiladas had nothing on her foster dad’s.

Olivia had begun taking off her coat, reaching out for Satya’s as they talked. 

“What was your foster dad’s name again?” Satya asked as she handed Olivia the coat and unwound the scarf from her neck.. She had remembered her mentioning something about him earlier.

“It’s-” Olivia’s smile immediately fell as her eyes locked onto Satya’s neck, eyes widening.

Satya immediately remembered herself and clutched at the discarded scarf, her other hand flying to her neck as she covered herself, praying that Olivia hadn’t seen it.

“That’s quite the bruise you’ve got, Satya.” Olivia said and Satya’s heart raced. “Where’s a pretty lady like you get a bruise like that?”

She had forgotten how bad it was. How the bruise darkened the skin, and how the left side of her neck looked like it had been attacked. 

She remembered now, as Olivia looked at it, and turned away as it began to ache again. The tightness came back to her and she had a moment of panic, fighting to calm herself down

“It’s of no concern.” Satya said, impressing herself with how even her voice stayed. She then did some mental relaxation, trying to find a happy place to meditate. There was none.

Olivia had the gall to look taken aback at her response. “This is my concerned face, Satya,” she said, her hand waving under her chin, “And I’m more concerned you say it’s no concern and you want to hide it.”

She didn't want to talk about this right now. She couldn't. “Olivia, please-”

“My idiot I keep talking about? He worked in the ER for years. He’s a pretty smart guy actually.” Olivia said, “And he’s told me stories. Given me lessons, cautions, and advice. I’m no doctor, Satya, but that looks to be-” 

She paused, reaching for Satya’s neck and making the other woman wince. “The size of... hm.” she began. Her hand hovered above the bruise, then she let it fall. “Tell me it was consensual and that you were just having fun, and I’ll drop it.”

Satya didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. What was there to say? Olivia already seemed to know the answer. Nothing she said would change that.

“What happened?” Olivia asked cautiously, “Did they hit you?”

“No! No. He... He would never-” Satya tried to convince the two of them, “He threw a paperweight after an upsetting phonecall. A small tungsten cube he always kept on his desk. It hit me. I was in the wrong place, I’m sure, he was aiming for the wall-”

“Who hurt you?” Olivia’s voice grew low and slow, the light playful tone she had always spoken with vanishing in a puff of smoke. “Give me his name.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Satya said. “This isn’t normal. It won’t happen again. It was a fluke.”

“And how was it a fluke?” The words she uttered were dangerous and did nothing to ease Satya’s anxiety.

“He was drunk. Angry. Frustrated after the call.” she said quickly. “A meeting had gone poorly, his bosses were disappointed about this quarter, his coffee was cold, his shirt was uncomfortable. His favorite stapler had broken. He slammed his thumb in a drawer.”

“So were you there for all of those or are those all the excuses _he_ gave you?” Olivia asked. Satya’s lack of response answered her question.

“You can talk to me, you’re safe here,” Olivia assured her, gesturing to the empty room. “The only other thing here is a mouse that lives in the walls.”

Satya wrinkled her nose and glanced around at the walls. “A mouse?” she said quietly.

“Don’t worry, he’s cool. I’ve never seen him, but I hear him sometimes. I named him Compaq and I think he practices his Irish step-dancing at 6pm every day. That’s besides the point.” Olivia said, “Give me a name and I will destroy him, whoever he is.”

“You can’t.” 

"Watch me." Her eyes were dark and furious. Her light banter was gone, replaced by a confident intensity as unforeseen as unexpected. Was she serious?

Satya realized she was.

She panicked, grabbing onto Oliva’s arm, “Please, you can’t. Not yet.” She didn’t know _how_ Olivia could do it, but it was clear that _she_ thought she could and she was raring to go.

“‘ _Not yet_ ’ is music to my ears.” Olivia said, walking them over towards her couch. “I promise not to do anything if you tell me. I mean it. You can trust me. I don’t want to see a pretty lady cry.”

“You swear you’ll do nothing?" Satya asked. "That you’ll tell no one?”

Olivia’s hands tightened around hers reassuringly. They were warm and comforting. “My lips are sealed.”

Satya nibbled her lip nervously before she reluctantly began to speak. “My boss, Sanjay, can… have a temper sometimes.” she said, “Normally I don’t work with him directly much, but I had to fill in for his secretary who took some time off.”

“Why?”

“Pregnancy is the official reason.” Satya said, “Fear for her unborn child is speculated.”

“So he’s a bully.” Olivia said, “A big, baby, bully who pushes smaller people around. He a Vishkar employee then?”

“It’s his parents’ company.” Satya answered.

“Ooohhh… Baby got some of daddy’s money inherited and suddenly he’s got to prove he’s a big man by hurting people.” Olivia tutted. “You sure you don’t want me to do anything about him? I have connections I could look into...”

Connections to who? Who could this woman possibly know? Did she mean any of the threats she was saying, or was she yet another person who's mouth wrote checks she couldn't cash?

Satya didn't get her hopes up. She had long since learned that doing so was dangerous and disappointing.

“No. Please. Not until I get Lucio out of there. I’ve been serving as a buffer for so long, I can last. They wouldn’t dare to hurt him, not one of their biggest stars.” she pleaded. “Music is Lucio’s life, he has a gift, he’s spent his whole life working to get where he is now, and I can’t have that taken away from him.”

“You’re trying to get your idiot out?” Olivia said, thumb rubbing the back of Satya’s hand.

“I’ve been talking with a friend who recently managed to sue his parents out of a managerial role. He and his brother got out. He’s been giving me a lot of advice, serving as a springboard for ideas,” Satya said, “But right now, I’ve got to keep Lucio and Vishkar balanced. They need each other to survive, because Vishkar owns all the rights to his music. His life’s work.”

“I see…” Olivia frowned, “Well, if you ever want any help, let me know. I can make things happen.” She leaned down and planted a soft kiss on Satya’s hand, her lipstick leaving a faint mark.

Satya looked up at her tiredly. “What sort of things?” While the gesture had been nice, she didn’t like the mess on the back of her hand, but she was too polite to just wipe it away in front of the other woman.

“For my friends? Anything.” Olivia said, “But not until you give me the word to move. I made you that promise.”

“I don’t think I could text you something like that over a phone Vishkar owns and remain out of trouble.”

“Then don’t text me something like that. Text me…” Olivia looked around the room for ideas, her eyes landing back on Satya’s hand, “Text me a lipstick kiss on your hand, showing me how pretty purple looks on you. Then we can start talking, okay?"

The idea of willingly leaving a lipstick mark on her hand had Satya cringing inside, but she said nothing. It was unlikely that she would ever be turning to this individual for assistance. She could handle everything on her own, like she had been doing. She had everything under control.

Because everything being out of her control and spiraling slowly into disordered chaos was a thought too terrifying to even entertain.

"Alright." She said. No reason to spit in the face of politeness. Olivia was trying.

"Good. It ain’t easy taking care of our idiots, but, man, do we try so hard for ‘em." Olivia said with a smile, "I've got some pajamas I can loan you tonight so you don’t gotta sleep in your nice clothes. Your butt's nicer than mine, so the pants _miiiight_ be a little tight on the booty, but I can live with that."

"Don't you mean _I_ can live with that?" Satya asked.

"Yeah, that too." Olivia nodded.

Satya felt uncomfortable with Olivia dismissing herself so openly. She was a pretty girl and she was being very nice right now.

"You also have a nice butt." Satya assured her.

"Aw, you're sweet," Olivia patted her hand, "but my boobs are _totally_ nicer than my butt, I know where my assets are, and I think you would agree." 

Satya's face burned at the teasing and Olivia giggled. 

"Don't you blush, I saw you sneaking some peeks, _mariposa_ ." Olivia continued, lounging back on the couch and tucking her hands behind her heads. Her chest was now on display for Satya. "I hear squeezing these babies is as good as _any_ stress ball. You want to find out?"

She then squeezed her own breast, winking, and made a soft squeaky honk sound with her mouth.

Satya, bless her heart, couldn’t stifle her laugh. It wasn’t funny. It wasn’t funny at all. It was a crude jest that normally would leave her wrinkling her nose in distaste.

But tonight, when she was tired, exhausted, beaten and bruised, she couldn’t stop herself. She couldn’t stop laughing at all, even as tears ran down her face and her side felt ready to burst.

Olivia said nothing as she sobbed, only offering the idea of an embrace as she held her arms open, giving Satya the choice of whether she was hugged or not.

And tonight, as she still struggled to pick up the pieces of yet another mess, she let herself be touched, fell into the hug and sobbing into Olivia’s shoulder.

She had wanted an easy day. Some would say she had gotten one. She would disagree.

And, as she was finding out, it wasn’t the easy days that mattered as much, but rather the hard ones; the ones that showed who you could really trust to have your back in the end.

\--------------------------------------------

Lucio and Jean and spent the day touring the Horizon, admiring the tropical plants filling the massive atrium. They had let themselves get lost, wandering around the multi-level walkways, through the small collection of stores that created a faux main-street in the center of the place, stopping to buy some hot chocolate and fudge from a quaint little shop.

They had walked along the river, admired the indoor waterfalls, and watched a water show that took place on one of the indoor lakes, the small geysers blasting in sync to both lights and music entertaining them for the entire ten-minute show.

There were performers that walked around, including a woman on stilts, covered in green and leaves, head to her stilts, that could seamlessly blend into the surrounding flora and surroundings with a blink of an eye.

The day was spent wandering around the hotel, with something new to see around every corner. Lucio was happy to do whatever he could to make this day last as long as it could.

Far too soon, they had looped back around to the front of the hotel. It was almost night time now, the sun had begun to set, and Baptiste stood with Lucio in the lobby.

“Today was spectacular, Lu, thank you for showing me the place. I should drop by on my own sometimes, I didn’t realize you didn’t have to stay here to get it… But, it’s gotten rather late, I guess I should-” Lucio knew what Baptiste was going to say. He didn’t want to hear it.

“Wait, Jean,” he interrupted, mind racing as he tried to find an excuse to make the day last just a _little_ bit longer. “Your hoodie. It’s still in my room. Let’s go grab that real quick, yeah?”

“Ah, right,” Baptiste said with a nod, “Lead the way.”

Lucio took them around the long way to the elevator and pressed the smooth glass button on the wall, making the doors shut in front of him. He shifted from foot to foot on the way up, trying to stay calm as he tried not to think about how it was all about to end.

Baptiste looped an arm over his shoulder. Did the man think he was cold? He was too sweet. Lucio wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

Then they were standing in the living room of his suite, with Lucio waving Jean after him to the bedroom. He picked up the hoodie off of the bed, his fingers digging into the thick cotton fabric as he tried to keep his composure.

“Here-” his voice squeaked, and he shut his mouth immediately, trying to concentrate and not make a scene. “Here you go.”

Jean’s hand brushed against Lucio’s as he began to take the hoodie out of Lucio’s grasp. He must have felt a tremble make its way through Lucio’s fingers, because his hand shifted back and lay on top of Lucio’s instead.

“Lu-” was all he had to say before Lucio crumbled. His face screwed up and tears began to silently spill out of his eyes, shoulders shaking as he quietly sobbed.

A large, warm hand cupped his cheek, a thumb wiping at the damp skin.   
  
“Shhh, Lu,” Jean was saying, “Breathe. What’s wrong, sunshine? You’ve been twitchy all day.”

Had he been? He had thought he was doing a good job of hiding it.

“Breathe,” Baptiste reminded him, pulling him into a hug. Lucio’s face pressed into his chest, soaking Jean’s shirt with his snot and tears, but Baptiste didn’t seem to care. He had worked in an ER, he had dealt with far worse substances.

The hoodie had been thrown back onto the bed, though Lucio wasn’t sure if it was him or Jean who had tossed it, and his hands were now fisting into the back of Baptiste’s shirt, holding him tightly as if that alone would be enough to buy him more time in New York.

Jean had been stroking his head with one hand and holding him close with the other, trying to calm him down. Lucio didn’t know how long they had been standing there by the time he had calmed down enough to breathe properly again.

“I’m- I- MmMMNNNn.” his words came out a whimper, and he took another minute before he tried again. “I’m- I’m not ready to go back.”

“Go back where, Lu?” Jean said, “California? You’ve still got some time.”

Lucio shook his head against his chest. “T’morrow.” he said, “I have to go back tomorrow. Work said-”

“Tomorrow?” Baptiste repeated, his voice low, his hand pausing momentarily on Lucio’s head. “So soon?”

“Yeah.”

“Ah. That’s… that’s a shame.” Baptiste murmured, and Lucio felt tears began to prickle once more.

“I don’t want to go back,” Lucio said, his voice thick as he grabbed at the front of Jean’s shirt, “I’m not ready.”

“Sure you are-”

“I haven’t been this happy in so long. I’m just going back… to being a failure. Nothing I do is right.”

“Lu, you are not a f-”

His hands fisted into Baptiste’s shirt, he pulled, throwing the man onto the bed without a second thought, pining and straddling him. Baptiste was too surprised by the sudden burst of strength to even react.

“I’m not ready to leave you, Jean. You have no idea how important you are to me.” Lucio said, rubbing his damp face on his own shoulder and trying to wipe all his tears away, “I’m not ready-”

“The Lu I know is a brave, strong man who can handle anything thrown his way.” Baptiste said, reaching up and stroking his cheek. “You’re ready, Lu. It may not feel good, and you may feel scared, but you’re ready. Don’t hide, Lu. Shine.”

Lucio sniffled, lips twisting into an anxious line. Then he leaned forward and kissed Jean, who thankfully returned the action.  
  
A hand petting his back and a happy hum from the man underneath helped ground him once more.

“I’m not ready to leave _you.”_ he finally said, managing to properly voice his thoughts. “I’m gonna miss you so much. You made my world so bright I forgot about all the dark spots lurking ‘round the corner, and now they’re all coming back at once, before I’m ready for them.”

“I’m gonna miss you too, Lu. California’s not the closest state after all. There would have to be some planning to see each other again,” he admitted, “But we can still talk over the phone? See each other that way? Olivia says there’s video calls now, though I’ve never done them. I could have her show me how.”

“You’ll send me those recipes, right?” Lucio said, smiling through his tears as he looked down at Jean.

“Of course.” Baptiste said, “And we could make them together, on the same night, and eat them while we talked. It would be almost like eating together in my apartment.”

“Yours would taste better.”

“Yours would get there with practice.” Jean assured him. “And you could send me some recipes too.”

Lucio smiled through the tears at his words. “I’m gonna miss your singing.”

“I can sing over the phone, Lu, if you really want me to.” Baptiste promised, “And we can send a text whenever we’re thinking of the other. It’s like a letter, just without the week of being in the mail.”

“I’d like that.” Lucio nodded. “And I’m glad you want to do that, but it’s still so hard to say goodbye.

“We’re not saying goodbye, Lu. We’re saying ‘so long’, ‘see you’ and ‘I’ll be back soon’s.” Baptiste said. Lucio noticed a tear slide out of the corner of Jean’s eye, trailing down his temple and onto the blanket. He wasn’t the only one upset at the turn of events.

“‘Catch you later’?

 _“Na wè pita,”_ Baptiste offered.

_“Até logo” Lucio replied_

“ _Au revoir,_ ” Baptiste said, finished, translating “Until we meet again.”

Lucio leaned over again and their lips connected once more. The kiss was calmer this time, less panicked, but as passionate as you would please. Lucio let go of Jean’s shirt with one hand, bracing himself on a forearm he placed next to Baptiste’s head as the kiss deepened.

Eventually, they had to come up for air and they gasped as their lips separated, their eyes meeting each other.

“You’ll have to let me know when you come back to New York,” Jean said with a smile, “I can make plans, book some reservations, and we can have some more fun.”

“And you let me know if you find yourself in California,” Lucio said, “I can show you around.”

“We shall see,” was all Baptiste said in reply. He smiled at Lucio and with a tilt of his head, asked, “Do you need me to get out of your way so you can pack?”

“No. No, I never unpacked,” Lucio admitted, “No, Jean, if you can- if you want… Stay. Please.”

“Of course, sunshine,” he said with a relieved laugh, “For the rest of the night, as long as you’ll have me. On two conditions.”

“What are they?”

“One, we order some authentic New York pizza. That was on my list of things for you to try. And two...” he said. His grin then turned sheepish, “Can you put your number in my phone? I’ll give you mine if you give me yours…”

“Absolutely.” Lucio said, wiping away at his mostly dried tears, “Pizza, whatever you want to drink, and maybe a movie?” 

“Whatever you want, Lu,” Jean replied, “However you want to spend the night.”

They placed an order for a whole pizza, having discovered that they both liked pineapple and ham, yet another quality they adored in each other. Half Hawaiian and half pepperoni, because Jean insisted he try some authentic pepperoni pizza before he left.

The bed was big enough for them both to comfortably sprawl with their plates, with a side-table for each of their drinks they had ordered from the bar, both having gotten a coconut manga mai tai at Jean’s advice of what would pair well with their food. They had also ordered a two-liter of coke to drink once their booze ran out.

They sat up on the bed and ate, settling on Mamma Mia, a movie Jean admitted was a guilty pleasure, after a quick flip through the channels, both of them enjoying the music even if the plot wasn’t the best. Eventually, they were slouching into the pillows, being mindful not to make a mess. 

Then, empty plates and cups run to the kitchen, they lay next to each other. Jean’s arm ended up around his shoulder and Lucio’s head ended up on his chest as they watched the TV. He could feel the vibrations in Jean’s chest whenever he quietly hummed along to the music.

Happy, full, warm, and safe, Lucio smiled contentedly as he snuggled his face against Jean’s shirt. Inevitably the movie ended, and Jean began to doze off as An American in Paris began to play next. Lucio turned off the TV as soon as he felt him fall asleep against him and start to use him for support, letting him sleep peacefully.

Flicking off the lamp, Lucio couldn’t think of a better way to end the night. No expectations to fulfill, no fear of failing a performance, all Lucio had to do to make the night great was relax and be himself.

And, as he began to shut his eyes, he realized that for the first time, in a long time, he was okay with that. 

Because for the first time, in a long time, he actually liked who he was, who he had become, and who he wanted to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos, comments, and feedback are always super appreciated!
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3
> 
> Questions, comments, or concerns? Hit me up on here or on my Twitter: https://twitter.com/KittenzCaboodle


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Chapter warnings  
> Sex scene (beginning and end of scene marked with a ** if you wish to skip it)
> 
> Happy reading! <3

Satya had been coming by to check on Lucio before she went home for the night. He had been mostly holed up in his condo, working ever since they had returned from New York two weeks ago. There were few exceptions to this, most surprisingly him joining her for yoga in the mornings.

Leaving New York had been hard for them both, much to her surprise. She tried to make it as gentle as possible as she could for Lucio, after being filled in about his budding relationship with Olivia’s idiot. She had told him where to meet her, at one of the Horizon’s cafes after he had finished saying his goodbyes.

She wasn’t timing him, there was no pressure, because she knew it wasn’t easy. She said nothing when he finally walked up to her table, eyes red and watery, arms holding himself tightly as he tried not to cry.

He said nothing and she didn’t ask him to. She ordered him a hot chocolate to go. She knew he liked those.

It wasn’t until they were in a cab to the airport that he began to relax. He had pulled out his phone and was weakly smiling at it. Satya glanced over at it out of the corner of her eye, curious, and read a message on his screen.

**  
-New York isn't New York**

**Without you, love**

**  
Miss you already,**

**Take care,**

**JBA**

It wasn’t until they were seated on the plane that Lucio talked to her, telling her all about his time in New York, eyes aglow as he reminisced about his time there with her. It was good to see him so happy again.

How happy that trip had really made him, she hadn’t realized until she was standing outside his door that evening, a reusable bag of groceries hanging on her arm. 

She couldn’t remember the last time she had heard the soft melodies flow so smoothly through the air, only the sound, not the beauty, dulled by the thick wood in the way.

The music stopped for a moment and she waited. And waited. And waited. And was pleasantly surprised when the tune continued.

Usually, when the music stopped, it was followed by the cacophony of Lucio smacking his hands and head onto the keyboard in frustration, complete with muffled groans and screams. He must have just paused this time to write some notes.

She silently opened the door, being mindful as she stepped inside his condo, ensuring that she didn’t make a sound as she shut and locked the door behind her.

The song didn’t pause. Lucio hadn’t heard her.

Walking on the balls of her feet, keeping her heels from clicking on the hardwood, she placed the groceries down on his kitchen’s counter. From the kitchen, she could see him sitting at his desk, keyboard laying at an angle as papers were spread out in front of him. His hands flew over the keys lightly, making his playing look effortless.

She knew it wasn’t. She knew how hard he worked and pushed himself, how much he had practiced and educated himself to be able to hear the songs that were waiting to be played.

He was humming too, singing a few quiet, unheard words every now and then in his shy voice, his head dipping to the side as he played. His eyes were shut - she knew even without seeing them they were, because they always were when he let himself get lost into the music - and after another moment, his hands stilled on the keys. He picked up a pen and scribbled more on the paper, the tip scratching lightly as he noted something else important to him.

He could hear songs that no one else did. Melodies from thin air. He had a gift for it, and it was kind of him to take the time to transcribe them and share with the rest of the world. It was a shame that Vishkar didn’t feel the same and continued to tamper. 

Then Lucio put the pen down and turned his seat around. As he stood, his eyes spotted Satya and he flailed in surprise, jumping where he sat.

“How _do_ you do that? Is there a secret passage in here or something?” Lucio asked as he leaned back into his seat, straightening up as an idea hit him. “Oh, tell me there’s a secret passage to explore.”

“No, I’m sorry.” she said apologetically, noting that he was wearing the purple hoodie he said Baptiste loaned him, “There’s no secret passage.”

“Dang.” Lucio sighed dramatically, trying not to smile and failing. It was good to see him in such a good mood. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m well. I got your text and picked up some things for you while I was out.” she said, taking items out of the bag, “Garlic. Garlic oil. Vegetable oil. _Green_ plantains-”

“Thank you so much. Mine ripened, like overnight, apparently apples can do that, and I need green for dinner.” he said, starting to stand up, “You got the money I sent, right?”

“I did. Don’t worry about it.” she said, a thought hitting her, “You uninstalled that app I mentioned a few weeks back, right? I never checked in about that.”

“That second music app that was causing phone issues? The purple one with the skull icon?” he asked, “Yeah. Did that the second you mentioned it. Hard to believe that passed a bug test and made it live.”

“Indeed.” was all she said in reply to that. Olivia had told her which app was the malware. All it needed was a simple uninstall to stop working. She had offered to only use it to keep an eye on him if Satya wanted, a kind but unnecessary offer, but she turned her down. She could keep an eye on Lucio, and she had Olivia’s number in her phone if she ever wanted advice. Satya had her on a strict “don’t call me, I’ll call you” policy and so far it was working out.

“What song were you working on?” She asked him.

“It’s, um, just that one song that I wrote for Jean’s voice.” Lucio reluctantly answered. “I was just finetuning a few last notes and cleaning up the rhyme scheme.”

That was exciting. They might have a song to present soon. “Can I hear it sung?” Satya asked, “Would you mind playing it for me?”

“I-... No. No, I don’t mind,” Lucio said, spinning back around in his seat. Satya left the items on the counter and made her way over to the desk, sitting in a chair that Lucio always left by his workspace for her.

He was whispering under his breath as he reread his music sheet, mentally rehearsing the coming motions before he began. Then his fingers began to move, pressing the keys as he played the song once more.

The keys hummed with a gentle synth sound, as the song was slower than his usual work. The opening part of the melody was smooth and hopeful. She had missed that positive sound in his work, the notes that reminded you of a bright morning, and the drop wasn’t hard, but it didn’t need to be for this song.

The chorus tune was slow and melodic, bringing to mind a young love, lost and found, with the optimistic beat never wavering.

_My heart has a lock_

_But you are the key_

_Slip inside and twist me open_

_Go til’ I can’t breathe  
  
_

_My heart’s been taken_

_Of this I’m sure_

_Leaving my chest aching_

_And you as the cure  
  
_

_You’re a breath of fresh air_

_It’s all that I need_

_‘Cause In a world gone gray_

_You’re the only color I see  
_

_The distance is far_

_But I’m still hoping_

_For my ray o’sunshine to_

_Split th’cloudy skies open_

He sang the chorus beautifully. It sounded sad, which was surprising. She wasn’t sure if it was because it was supposed to be a sad song or if Lucio’s current emotions were bleeding over into his music.

After some more of the melody and another round of the chorus, he finished the song and looked up at her expectantly.

“So what do you think?” he asked her.

“I think it’s fantastic, it’s personal and emotional, but subtle. Nothing like the in-your-face-music Vishkar keeps forcing into your music. SO!-” she said, clapping her hands together, “What is your timeline for the song? When do you want to go into the studio and record the music and when could id- Jean-Baptiste sing it? We might be able to rent Overwatch Records recording studio for him, if they’re available, since they’re based in New York City, so I could-.”

“There’s no timeline for the song,” Lucio said, pushing his chair back and standing up.

“There has to be-” she stuttered, “Vishkar needs a timeline-”

He picked up the papers he had been writing on and straightened them, his hands hitting the desk as he jostled them into place. “I hope you enjoyed the performance, Satya.” he said, “Because that was the only one.”

Her brows knit together and she looked up at him in absolute confusion. “What?” she asked quietly.

“Jean’s not singing the song.” he said, sliding the papers into the top drawer of his desk, “And Vishkar’s not getting their hands on it.”

Her eyes were wide. “Jean said no?” she asked in disbelief.

“No. I didn’t ask him.” he said as the drawer clicked shut. “Because he would have said yes.”

Her shoulders slumped, confused. “I don’t understand.”

“Jean doesn’t want to work in music. I don’t want to put any pressure on him to.” Lucio told her. “Because I’m scared that _if_ I asked him, he would yes even if he didn’t want to ‘cause it’s me asking and he’s too nice to me.”

“So your song?...”

“Will never see the light of day.” Lucio said, opening up a different drawer and pulling out a different stack of papers, “I’ve been working on other melodies, though, I just had to finish _the song_ before I could let it go.”

“So you have other completed tracks?”

“Not completed, but close. I’ve some music written out.” he promised. “You’re the one that said I can look inside myself and find the right songs, and I think I can, but it helps to have something to sing to ta’ avoid the wrong ones, y’know?”

“I can spend the night brainstorming with you-” she cut herself off, “No, uh, tomorrow night? I forgot you had plans tonight.”

“That’s okay. Maybe I’ll take you up on that tomorrow.” he said with a grin, “I’ve got another slow beat song written, another energetic one, and I’ve got one that’s, like, Jamaican vibes, with synth, but also steel drums, a guitar, some subtle drums for the the kick in the beat, that one’s basically done-”

“Lyrics? Any catchy phrases to appease Vishkar?”

“Not yet. I’ll get there.” he said as he flopped into his chair, sneaking a quick peek at his phone. Nothing. “Sometimes it’s hard to find the words to say when you know they’ll be taken away. Everyone just thinks I’m some kind of music-making machine, and I’m not, and it feels like I’m just, like,... actor in my own life sometimes-”

He shot upright, spinning his chair right around and faced the desk and keyboard once more. He opened up a different drawer and pulled out a stack of paper and uncapped his pen.

His fingers returned to the keys and he slowly began to play another song, a different one from before, that was also a slower melody. He sang under his breath, his voice unsure and his music pausing after every few words as he thought about the lyrics.

_Sometimes it’s hard to find the words to say_

_When you know they’ll be taken away_

A pause.

_And every one of them will be replaced_

_Until your humanity’s completely erased._

Another pause. This one accompanied by some excited bouncing as he scribbled down the words. Then he continued.

_It’s not what it seems_

_I am not a machine_

_I’m just an actor who exits the stage_

_After the end of my scene_

One hand wrote down the words, the other one excitedly tapped the keys, playing a nonsensical two-note tune as he fidgeted and thought some more.

“There’s a song for Vishkar.” he said after a moment, spinning back around towards Satya. “What do you think?”

“I think the melody is beautiful and the lyrics are deep, but there’s no way Vishkar or Sanjay will give this a stamp of approval. It would lead to questions he doesn’t want to answer, and he just wants a simple, catchy, marketable phrase or two.” 

“Lena Oxton got to rebel in her music.” Lucio pointed out.

Her latest track Motormouth had immediately taken off, getting loads of airtime, with her rapid-fire chorus catchy enough to sing along with. Another reason the public had taken notice was because it was her way of calling out all the people who had told her she talked too much, too fast over the years, turning their aggression into her new hit with a insanely energetic chorus that had everyone singing along:

_Sit down! Don’t need permission to speak_

_Never did without a doubt_

_I’ll chit n’ I’ll chatter n’ I’ll jib and I’ll jabber til’ blue_

_‘Cause I’m a motormouth_

“Overwatch Records are different from Vishkar. Lena’s one of their first stars, so she has the leniency to do what she pleases.” Satya replied honestly. “Were you still wanting me to turn it in to Sanjay?”

“Yeah. Why not? It’ll buy me some time to finetune the Jamaican beat, but show him I’ve been working.” Lucio said with a shrug, “And it’s kind of therapeutic to write all that down and acknowledge it.”

“Is that how you feel?” she asked him quietly. “That you’re a music-machine?”

“What else am I? It’s all I exist to do. Write the songs, hype the songs, perform the songs, pray people like the songs, and do it all again. My only purpose right now is to be a music-making machine. I write the tunes, put my heart and soul into making a song mine, and Vishkar ' _sanitizes_ ' them into something I don’t recognize, wiping clean all the sounds of my culture and erasing me from my own music, and then they demand more. I hear the music from my second album and I don't recognize it. It wasn't what I wrote. My first album was an homage to my home, to my past, to the world that raised me. Most of the songs on the second album are... insulting really, except for the few fights we won and the songs I got to keep. I worry what the third will become, but I'm still gonna write the songs I want the world to hear. It's anyone's guess what they _do_ get to hear in the end,” he answered with a sigh. “Jean told me the reason he would never go into music, even though his voice is amazing, is because if his hobbies and interests he uses to relax became his work, then there would be nowhere for him to go when he needed a break from it all. I’m kinda getting to understand that the more I think about it.”

“I’ll turn the song in to Sanjay tomorrow afternoon, if you send me the music sheet, the lyrics, a sound recording of you playing the basic melody on your keyboard; just use your phone.” she said, “I’ll send it in through email. Only email. Not in person. Be sure to keep working on the other song, though. You and I both know he won’t like this.”

Satya frowned at him after she said that, looking deep in thought. Then her eyes shut and her lips moved silently, like she was praying or reminding herself of something. Lucio hoped that she wasn’t angry about his rambling.

Much to his relief, she changed the subject to one that he liked. “I’ve still yet to hear your Jean-Baptiste sing.” she noted. “At this point, you’ve talked about it so much, I’m not sure I’m going to be impressed or disappointed when I hear it.”

“Stick around for a lil’ while and I’ll ask him to. He might.” Lucio said with a shrug. He reached for his phone again and clicked it on, grinning as he read the latest text on his screen.

**-Ready whenever you are.**

**JBA**

How had he missed the text? He had been checking his phone all day. The timestamp said it had come in three minutes ago. Right when Lucio had been playing, that explained it.

_-Give me just a minute_

Lucio typed out the message as fast as he could and sent it. He scrolled farther up their messaging chain, looking back over all of the pictures Jean had sent him since they had separated.

There was one of a sunglasses-wearing bulldog in a baby carrier he and Olivia had met on a subway trip to a new rock-climbing facility. The dog (named Mack apparently) was the highlight of the picture, with the owner (presumably not named Mack) being shot from the neck down. Jean had gotten permission to take a photo of the dog, he had made sure to tell Lucio that.

Then there was a selfie with Olivia in front of the indoor rock wall that he had sent. Olivia had sent him a shot of Jean’s butt when he was busy climbing.

An earlier message Jean had sent was him in his apartment’s gym, a place he used when he had time and was up for entertaining the thought of being social. He had taken a shot of the room, showing up in the distant wall/mirror’s reflection.

Upon seeing the picture, Lucio had sent him:

 _-Flexing on me?_ ;) ;) ;)

In response, Baptiste had sent him another picture, this one directly in front of the giant mirror. His white tank clung tightly to his body, the low neckline showing off the very top of his pecs and letting him show off his buff arms. His aqua shorts were a hair baggy and hit right above the knee. White headphones were in his ears and a small smile was on his lips. His eyes were on his phone’s screen, making sure that he got the picture right, but it just added to the flirty aura surrounding the message.

**-Working out and keeping my arms huggable just for you :)**

**JBA**

If Lucio could get away with making that picture his phone’s background, he absolutely would have. The risk of Vishkar catching sight and asking too many questions was the only reason his background was still a tiny frog, sitting on a large leaf, holding a small leaf as an umbrella in some drizzling rain and not Jean’s beautiful self.  
  
Lucio scrolled back down and saw that Jean had replied to him with a simple - 

**\- :)**

**JBA**

\- A sign of acknowledgement to Lucio’s message, with no pressure to hurry. Jean was ready whenever he was. Simple as that.

“Was that him?” Satya asked, watching as Lucio stood up.

He began heading to the kitchen. “Yeah, he’s ready.” He said as he opened up Talkalalka, the video messaging app that he had installed on his phone.

“Hey, Satya,” he began, fingers pausing as he looked up at her, “Um, if you hang out and say hi, uh, please call me Lu.”

“You haven’t told him who you are yet?” she said, raising her eyebrows at him, “He doesn’t know you’re Lucio?”

Lucio averted his gaze, dipping them back down to the phone. “No.”

“When are you going to tell him? You can’t keep it a secret forever.” she reminded him.

“I’m- Not yet. And I will tell him. Later.” Lucio promised, scanning the room and making sure all Lucio-identifying trinkets had been put away, “But he’s, like, the only one I can be myself with. And I’m coming to find out I’m a lot more like Lu and I’m liking him a lot more than I am Lucio. So, please-”

“I won’t tell him… Lu.” she promised. “But you will need to be the one to eventually. Imagine he finds out from someone else? That your relationship is based on deceit? How do you think he would feel? Tell him one day soon. Promise me that.”

“Eventually.” he said with a nod, finishing signing into the messaging app. “But not tonight. Tonight I’ve got a dinner date.”

He exaggeratedly raised a finger and then, making sure Satya was watching, made a show of calling Jean on the app, letting Satya know that this conversation was over for now. There was a loading screen after he approved the message request from Jean-Baptiste aka _CallMeHaiti_ on the Talkalalka messaging app. 

When asked why he had chosen that name, he explained that because they had really only just met, and they were kinda crazy about each other, and they had exchanged numbers so... _CallMeHaiti._

The video feed began, showing Baptiste reading a book, and upon hearing the sync’d beep from his phone, Jean looked up from his book and at the phone he had set up for their night. He was dressed in a dark blue Hawaiian shirt, covered with beautiful red and white hibiscuses with the occasional green palm leaf popping into view.

“Well, hello, _ConAlcunaLucenza,”_ he said, referencing Lucio’s screen name. “I’m glad you could join me tonight.”

“Yeah, sorry about taking so long to get set up. I was working on something.” Lucio said. “What are you reading?”

“Don’t apologize. You took no time at all. And it’s another culinary mystery, _No way, Flambe._ It’s not as good as the last one. I’m kind of hate-reading it right now, like an idiot.” he said, closing the book and pushing it aside. “What have you been working on, Lu? Something fun?”

“I-...” he paused, debating what to say. He decided to answer honestly and try dipping his toe into the water and see how Jean reacted. “I write music for a living and I was working on a track.”

Baptiste leaned back into his seat. “Oh!” he said brightly, “Do you need to keep working?”

“No. I hit a good stopping point,” Lucio said with a happy little grin.

“I didn’t know you wrote music.” Baptiste said as he pushed his chair back and began to stand. “That’s what you meant by ‘entertainment industry’.”

He saw Satya looking at him curiously, eyes going between the phone and Lucio. “What did you think I meant?” he asked.

“Don’t worry about it- You were so vague I didn’t know what to think.” he admitted. “What kind of music do you write?”

“Oh… Different kinds.” he said, changing the subject. The water was getting too deep too fast. “Did your blender show up?”

“Yeah, it did!” Baptiste said, scooping up the phone and walking it around the counter, “Let me show it to you.”

Lucio looked up from his phone. “Hey, Satya? You want to see the blender?” he explained to Baptise, “Satya dropped by because she brought me some ingredients I was missing for dinner tonight. My, uh, aunt-figure, remember?”

Baptiste had picked up the laptop and carried it over to the counter where he had set his new blender on display. Satya, after mouthing the word “aunt” back at him, hand against her chest like an aghast southern belle came over to view it at Lucio’s insistence, standing behind him as they took in the sight of it.

Lucio had bought Jean the blender after catching sight of a limited-edition design that had come out for the holiday season in a food magazine he had been perusing for dinner-date recipe ideas. The glass was normal and clear, but the base and lid had designs on them. They were a light black, with darker black bars, and a bright assortment of colorful lines and dots scattered about, looking like a gaudy 90s movie theater’s carpet.

 _“What do you think?”_ Lucio had excitedly asked Satya, feeling as if he had found the perfect Christmas present for Jean-Baptiste.

Satya had taken one look at the ad, looking between it and his grinning face over the lenses of her reading glasses. _“I think it’s hideous.”_

 _“I know! Isn’t it?”_ Lucio had beamed, _“He’ll love it!”_

There had been quite a bit back and forth between them about the blender. Lucio had wanted to surprise him, but Satya had insisted that he ask Jean about it first. It was a rather large gift to impress on someone.

Jean had argued that Lucio didn’t need to spend that much on him. It was a top-of-the-line blender and it was not cheap. Lucio had countered that it was only fair, considering that he had stayed so many nights in Jean’s apartment. Spending those nights in a hotel could have cost as much as the blender.

Jean argued that he had wanted Lucio to stay so that didn’t count. Lucio had then reminded the man that he had cooked for Lucio so this would pay him back for dinner. Jean insisted that he would have been eating dinner anyway, and it wasn’t as if he had to go out and buy anything special for their meal.

Lucio then point-blank asked him if he wanted it, because he could easily afford to buy this for him. If he didn’t want it, he should just say so, but if he did, Lucio wanted to buy it because it was limited-edition and Jean did _need_ a new blender after all.

It was then that Jean reluctantly admitted that, yes, he had seen it and he loved it, but it wasn’t necessary to and he would find a different, less interesting-

Too late, Lucio said, I just bought it… how fast do you want it shipped? If Jean had wanted it tomorrow, Lucio’s would have thrown the hundred bucks extra shipping in just for him. Jean, of course, was much more patient and reasonable than that, as Lucio knew he would be.

And now, weeks later, there the blender sat proudly on Jean’s counter. It looked exactly like it did in the picture, as clean and as bold.

“I still think it’s hideous.” Satya said, peering over Lucio’s shoulder.

“I know! Isn’t it!?” Baptiste said happily, “I love it!”

“Have you used it yet?” Lucio asked elbows resting on the counter as he leaned in

“It’s the best blender I’ve ever seen, let alone use. The motor on this could probably power a small car. Like a kid-size jeep, but still.” Baptiste said, turning the phone around so that he could see the screen, “It took, like, no time for the green-juice this morning. I’ve been spoiled, Lu. Gave my old blender a proper burial, but I don’t miss her as much as I thought I would…”

“I’m glad to hear it’s working out.” Lucio replied, “Hey, Jean? I’ve got a question, but feel free to say no if you don’t want to.”

Baptiste raised a brow at him. “Well, now I’m scared.”

“I was talking to Satya about how well you sing and I was wondering if you were in a singing mood so that she could hear your voice too?” Lucio said, quickly adding, “But, not if you don’t want to. I know you told me how you don’t like singing in front of sober people….”

“Strangers really, Lu. I don’t like being judged. But…” he hummed in thought, “You’ve talked quite a bit about Satya, so I do feel as if I know her some. So, if she promises not to judge me and really wants to hear me sing for some reason, I can sing a couple lines, I guess?”

“I won’t judge you,” Satya promised, “Luc- Lu has talked at length about how beautifully you sing and he has piqued my curiosity immensely. If you’re comfortable with it, I would love to hear it.”

“He does like talking, doesn’t he?” Baptiste said to Satya with a laugh, propping his phone up on the counter, “Alright, um, let me go get some music. I need music. What song should I-? Oh! I know!”

There was the sound of footsteps as Baptiste jogged across the room, probably to his music collection. Then he was back in view, slipping a cd into his player and skipping to a track.

The music began with drums and bass, with Baptiste rocking back and forth until the perky plucks of a guitar began to pepper the beat and his rhythm sped up to match.

“This one is for you, Lu,” he said, taking a breath before he began to sing shyly along.

_If you got a minute_

_Get down your idea_

_It may do wonders_

_Maybe disappear_

Lucio could hear Satya shift closer as Jean’s heavenly vocals began to fill the room. Now she would understand.

_Who knows? Just get it down_

_And nothing can go wrong_

_Go find your rhythm_

_That's how you write a song._

“Oh my word,” the words were spoken under Satya’s breath. Lucio couldn’t fault her for being near-speechless. That was exactly how he had felt the first time Baptiste’s buttery vocals coated his ear drums too.

By the time he reached the chorus, Jean had shut his eyes and his voice had grown more confident for it. All it did was highlight how refined his raw talent really was. His dancing had also gotten more energetic the minute he shut the world out and he danced smoothly to the beat.

_Step one believe in it_

_And sing it all day long_

_Step two just roll with it_

_That's how you write a song_

Despite the music still playing, Jean stopped there, bowing slightly to signal the end of his performance. Then slowly, he stood back up and opened up his eyes, unsure of what to do or say now.

“My!” Satya said, breaking the silence, “You have excellent power and control throughout the song, which is rare, and you bring such emotion to your singing. It’s refreshing. That was delightful and I see he meant every one of his many words of it. Thank you for indulging us.”

“Yeah, uh, no, it was no problem.” Baptiste said with a grin, “You like the song, Lu? I picked it for you.”

Lucio had both elbows resting on the counter, head in hands as he dreamily looked at Jean. “I loved it, Baptiste-”

“I’ll be getting out of your way now,” Satya cut him off, picking up her bag of groceries from the counter, “It was a pleasure talking to you, Jean-Baptiste. Both of you have a good night.”

Both men bid her goodbye and she left them alone to enjoy their time together. After talking a few times previously while they ate dinner, they had ended up talking about what each other was eating and wishing they had that instead. So, they had begun to pick recipes to make together and then eat together.

Jean had picked a BBQ Gouda stuffed burger last time, for New Year’s, and had walked Lucio through making his Pork Griot the time before that. Lucio had picked pesto pasta with grilled chicken last time for his.

Lucio had gotten to pick tonight’s recipe and, after texting it to Jean, both men had bought ingredients to make tonight’s dinner; Skirt steak mofongo with some arroz con gandules on the side.

Cooking together was always fun, though Baptiste was a bit paranoid whenever Lucio was cutting anything, always reminding him to watch his fingers and remember his knife skills.

Baptiste showed off the mortar and pestle he had bought for the mofongo, admitting he had never used one before, but he could afford to buy a nicer one since he didn’t have to buy a blender anymore.

Forty-five minutes later, they were sitting down to eat together. Lucio had to walk his dishes and phone over to a table, but Jean just had to spin himself, his phone and his dishes around the corner to get to the bar.

Lucio had come to love their time talking together. He wasn’t expected to perform or answer in any fashion, and he could just relax and enjoy the man’s company. They could just talk and he could be himself and it was nice.

All they talked about were the things happening in each other’s lives, though Lucio usually couldn’t dare with as much depth as Jean did. He still wasn’t ready to lose Lu yet or change the dynamic between them, not while it was still so fresh and vulnerable and, for him, necessary.

Lucio told Jean he had been going to yoga with Satya in the mornings, and how much more difficult it was than he had thought. Jean was still proud of him nonetheless. Lucio wasn’t allowed to fail or struggle, but Lu was. That was part of why he wasn’t ready to let him go.

One piece of conversation stuck out to Lucio in particular.

“You know your phrase ‘con alcuna licenza’?” Jean asked him as they ate, “I was thinking about it earlier and it reminded me of a phrase I had forgotten; _carte blanche_ .”  
  
“Carte blanche?” Lucio had asked, covering up his still chewing mouth with a fist.

“It means complete freedom to act as one wishes or thinks best.” Jean translated for him. “I think I would like to start using that as my personal philosophy, as inspired by yours, if that’s alright with you.”

Lucio tilted his head curiously. “Why wouldn’t it be alright with me?”

“I don’t wish to impose or tread on your comfort. You found your solace in your phrase and I would like your blessing to adopt a similar phrase of my own,” Baptiste replied. “I don’t want to trespass or sour your motto by overstepping, Lu. So it’s okay?”

“Absolutely. Carte Blanche it up all you want,” Lucio assured him with a laugh. “I won’t be using that one ever. Con Alcuna Licenza - that’s my phrase.”

Eventually, after their conversation wandered elsewhere, their plates were cleared and placed in the sink. Lucio and Jean both went to go lay down in their respective beds, phones in tow as they continued to talk. 

Their mild conversations soon took a saucier tone as Jean mentioned how much he missed having Lucio in his bed, even if his sleeping wrestling moves made it difficult to get up in the morning. Then he mentioned how unexpected it had been when Lucio had pinned him in the Horizon Suite’s bed, and how he wouldn’t mind ending up underneath Lucio next time they met.

“I wish I was there with you now.” Lucio said wistfully, “I miss you.”

“I’m right here, Lu,” Jean said, leaning back into his pillow, “But I get what you’re saying. I miss having you in reach.”

“I miss being in your reach.” Lucio agreed.

**Baptiste thought a moment, and then gave him an unsure smile. “You once said my voice was so nice it could put you to sleep…” he began, “But do you think it’s nice enough to arouse you from here?”

Lucio sank back comfortably into his pillow. “Absolutely.” he said with a grin, “Go ahead.”

“Alright, um, good. Okay. i just wanted to ask because it would be weird if I just started trying without asking…” he trailed off, blew out a breath, and met Lucio’s eager gaze. “Take your shirt off, Lu. I want to see you.”

“Is yours coming off too?” Lucio asked as he sat up to pull his shirt off over his head. Baptiste didn’t say anything immediately, instead sticking a finger down the front of his shirt and pulling, unbuttoning his shirt effortlessly and letting it hang on his body.

“Whew, _olá bonitão_ ” was all Lucio could say in response. The combination of watching something so sexy along with just being able to enjoy the sight of Jean’s body kind of shut his brain down for a second.

“Lay back down, sunshine.” Baptiste said, “You like playing with your chest? Wanna show me how good it feels?”

Oh, they were really doing this. Like, really really doing this. 

Okay. This was new, but it wasn’t pass or fail. Jean wouldn’t judge him, it was going to be fine. All he had to do was relax. 

Well, first he would prop his phone on his bent thighs, so that he could keep looking at Jean the whole time, then he would relax.

His head fell back into the pillow and a hand stroked his pec, giving it a squeeze before rubbing a thumb over his semi-erect nipple. Fingers tweaked it, and it stiffened, and he hummed happily at the sensitive sensation.

“That feels good, yeah? Pretty boy. You’re such a beautiful man, Lu,” Jean crooned, hand fondling his own muscular chest, “Are you getting hard? Cock aching to be touched?”

His cock twitched in his sweatpants at the sound of Jean’s voice, almost as if growing hard at his command. “Mmm hmm, yeah-”

“Touch yourself for me, sunshine. Play with yourself, give in to that desire...” he paused, looking Lucio’s way through half-lidded eyes. “Still green, right?”

“Green as can be.” Lucio promised, his unoccupied hand traveling down his torso and slipping under his pants and toying with his growing erection.

“Got it.” Baptiste said, returning to task after he had gotten an all-clear. “Look at you. Letting yourself fall apart just for me... I’m flattered.”

He let Lucio continue masturbating in front of him, watching as his head pushed back into the pillow and as quiet moans escaped his lips. Then he spoke once more.

“Go until you’re hard, but don’t come, Lu. Can you do that for me, gorgeous?” he said, his voice dripping with a thick, deep sultriness that alone had Lucio almost jizzing himself, “Do you have lube nearby?”

“I can- I can do that.” Lucio assured him, hand slowing at the new request. “Got some in reach, yeah.”

“Good. Good.” Baptiste said as he debated a moment, finally asking, “Are you in the mood for anal penetration?”

“A-Absolutely.”

“Lube up once you’re done palming yourself and finger yourself.” he paused again. “You are just going to use a finger, right?”

Lucio had been turned, stretching for the lube when he heard the question. “Yeah.” he answered, lube now in his grasp. “Why?”

“Have you ever used any toys before?”

“Not yet.” Lucio said as he laid back down on the bed, “I’ve always been more hands-on.”

“I wasn’t sure.” Jean admitted, “And I didn’t want tonight to be your first night trying them out, especially if it didn’t have a base of some kind.”

It had come to Lucio’s attention that this was no longer dirty talk, but rather more concerned advice. “Why is that, Bap?”

“Anal sphincters are notorious grabbing hold inserted objects and sucking them up because of how the muscles work. Objects can become lodged inside rectums and retrieval isn’t always possible without medical assistance.” Baptiste explained. “Inexperience, or, hell, even experience, combined with a non-flared base could result in losing the object and requiring an Emergency Room trip and I’d rather we didn’t have that.”

This was news to Lucio. “Seriously?” he asked, both fascinated and horrified about how his ass could betray him. “They can do that?”

“Lu. I worked in an ER for ten years. I saw things. Many things. Many, _many_ things.” Baptiste assured him, his eyes dead-looking as he thought back to it. “And while I won’t go into detail about the woman we had to retrieve a lightbulb out of or the man who shoved a vase up there three times, nor the copious amounts of vibrators, dildos, beads, shampoo bottles, toy cars, and other foreign objects with and without the necessary safety features, I promise you that those things happen. If you buy anything, ensure there’s a flared base or a guaranteed retrieval method. _Please_.”

“I promise.” Lucio said, making a mental note of the conversation. He eyed his lubed-up fingers skeptically. “Fingers are okay, though, right? I can’t lose those somehow-”

“Not unless your ass has teeth in there and-” he paused, pulling up the waistband of his sweatpants and checking real quick, “And I made it out intact.”

Lucio hesitated still, and Baptiste noticed.

“Green?” he asked hesitantly. “Yellow? Red?”

“Yellow.” Lucio answered honestly. “Keep talking me through some fingering because I want to get back to green.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to kill the mood.” Baptiste took a moment to collect himself. “I wish I was there to touch you, Lu, have my way with however you’ll let me. _Je veux faire l'amour avec toi.”_

Oh. He had pulled out the French. That would help.

“Touch yourself for me, Lu, fingerfuck yourself, deep as you want.” he said through lidded eyes, hand massaging at the growing bulge in his pants. _“Please.”_

Lucio trailed a finger around his asshole, teasing it as he watched Jean slip his waistband down and reveal his own cock, his fingers wrapping around it.

“ _Tes yeux, j’en rêve jour et nuit.”_ Jean continued, moaning as Lucio arched his back, finally slipping a finger inside himself. “There we go. In and out. Imagine it’s me, pushing you to the _brink_.”

He tried to. He shut his eyes and tried to pretend that it was Jean on top of him, but it wasn’t easy. For one, Jean was bigger. Lucio solved that problem by slipping a second finger into himself, hips bucking and moaning obscenely, receiving one from Jean in return.

Fingers pumped in and out of him, and the next few minutes were a blur of sensations - fingers toying with his ass and chest - Jean’s lewdly seductive voice, and the inevitable, necessary, much-anticipated release. 

He knew that he moaned when he came, his lips moving on their own. It wasn’t until he was tiredly sitting up and being met with Jean’s wide grin that he realized just what he had said.

“You moaned my name, sunshine,” Jean said happily, cheeks flushed from his own endeavor. “You should do that more often, Lu. It fits well on your lips, beautiful.”

**Lucio smiled back at him, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest. Jean would never scream his name if he didn’t know it. But if he knew it, Lucio got the feeling that he wouldn’t be screaming it at all.

But he pushed that thought aside. At least he had someone like Jean for now. He wanted to enjoy it as much and as long as he could.

“I’ve loved every second of tonight, and while I want it to last forever, it’s kind of late here, Lu,” Jean said. He had been staying up late to eat and talk with Lucio tonight after all, New York time was three hours later than California time. “I’ve got to get to sleep. Work tomorrow and all.”

“Right, yeah, I should probably start winding down too.” Lucio agreed.

“Talk to you soon.” Baptiste promised. “ _Je t'adore, Mon kè .”_

He knew what all that meant. It wasn’t the first time Jean had said it. _My heart_ was yet another adored nickname he had given to Lucio.

“Goodnight, Jean,” he said, reaching for his phone to shut off the stream, “I love you too.”

That night as he began to drift to sleep, his eyes snapped open with a thought. Would he ever be able to live Carte Blanche? With complete freedom? 

...Did he want to?

He was happy enough living Con Alcuna Licenza, with some freedom… 

Wasn’t he? 

He may still be on a leash, but at least it was long and gilded, glittering bright with silver and gold. Staying tied down would mean that he would be able to provide for those that he cared about. It was safe here, and making music had always been his dream. What was there not to like?

What was there not to like?

...What… what was there not to like…? 

Right?

The cage had glass walls now that he had stepped outside it. He longed for that freedom he had had back in New York once more, but knew that he would have to wait. They could never take music away from him, but they could take his paycheck faster than he could blink.

So if he kept being smart with his money and investments, then maybe he could keep providing for his few friends, give them all the home and comfort he had never had, and still make music, and live Carte Blanche one day.

But for now, trying for a Con Alcuna Licenza life would have to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> olá bonitão: Hello handsome  
> Je veux faire l'amour avec toi: I want to make love with you  
> Tes yeux, j’en rêve jour et nuit: I dream about your eyes day and night.  
> Je t'adore: I adore you.  
> Mon kè: My heart (Haitian Creole)  
> \--------  
> Kudos, comments, and feedback are always super appreciated!
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3
> 
> Questions, comments, or concerns? Hit me up on here or on my Twitter: https://twitter.com/KittenzCaboodle


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Chapter warnings  
> Alcohol  
> Physical altercation  
> Abuse  
> Lesbians doing their best
> 
> Happy reading! <3

Two weeks later, Lucio stood in front of the mirror, trying to make sure that he looked put together enough to speak to the head of Vishkar. He and Satya had received emails yesterday telling them they had a meeting with Sanjay today at 11:15 am.

Satya had made it perfectly clear that Lucio wasn’t to go to the meeting without her. She was his manager after all. Going with him was her job and she would ensure the meeting went smoothly.

It had been quite a while since Lucio had met with Sanjay face to face, longer since it had been a closed-door meeting with just them. He couldn’t help but feel nervous at the thought of walking through that door. At least Satya would be there with him.

Those nerves were why Lucio was dedicating so much time to making sure that his appearance was sharp. He knew that Sanjay hated his dreads, not that those would ever be changed, and was a stickler for looks. Lucio had heard rumors of his temper but had been fortunate enough to never face its wrath.

He wore a dark green button-down long sleeve shirt tucked into dark jeans under a yellow and green varsity jacket. His hair was tied back, making sure that it wouldn’t slip out and risk getting in his face and pissing Sanjay off.

As he was putting his nice sneakers into his backpack, they were a basic white pair that he did his darndest to keep clean, his phone buzzed. He crossed the room and clicked on the screen and saw a text from Sanjay himself.

_Meetingsnow @10:30._

_Be there._

A quick glance of his watch told him that he would have to hustle to make it to the Vishkar headquarters on time. Moving a meeting later was one thing, but earlier? At least on the plus side it meant that he got out of there sooner.

Snatching his wallet and phone, he raced downstairs in his socks, bag on his back and skates in hand. He slipped them on by the lobby door and stepped outside and began skating towards Vishkar.

He liked skating and would do it everywhere if he could. It was relaxing. A way to shut his mind off and enjoy nature usually. Today he was too hurried to relax, keeping a fast pace so that he could make it on time.

He wheeled up to the headquarters at 10:15, changed into his sneakers, put his skates away, and hustled to the distant elevator. At 10:29, he was standing outside Sanjay’s office, nine floors up, twenty doors back, trying to compose himself.

He didn’t have any time to look around or think or calm down before his secretary - he had a new one every time Lucio saw them, so he never knew their names - was escorting him into the office, pushing him inside and shutting the door behind him.

Sanjay stood behind his desk, just hanging up his cell phone and now flipping through some files. His hair was messier than all the clean-cut images of him on the walls and in the news, his shirt was unbuttoned at the top - they were usually done up all the way - and his tie was loose around his neck.

There was a scent in the room too. One that smelled like-

“Sit.” Sanjay said, finally noticing him. He pointed at the low, barebones chair in front of his desk, motioning for Lucio to settle there. “Si’down.”

-Alcohol. He could smell alcohol, and Sanjay’s red eyes and nervous, tipsy swaying were enough for him to know where every drop of it had gone. How was he this wasted so early in the day? Lucio hadn’t even known that he drank; he never did at functions.  
  
It also came to his attention that Satya was nowhere to be seen. She was a punctual lady, even if the meeting times were changed. Her plan was to always arrive fifteen minutes early to appointments, and it was near foolproof. She should have been here.

Sanjay pulled a stack of papers out of a folder and flopped into his leather executive seat. He slid the papers in front of Lucio, tapping them twice. “Sign this, please. That, the next page, and the last one as well,” he said tiredly, fumbling for a pen out of his holder before he managed to snag one and slap it down in front of Lucio. “Then you can go.”

Lucio eyed the paper. “What is it?” he asked.

Sanjay’s hand waved in the air dismissively. “Contract update.” he replied with a shrug, not meeting Lucio’s gaze. “Hurry up.”

“An update? Wait. Hold on.” Lucio began skimming the tons of legalise on the paper, “Why? What are we updating? What needs to be changed?”

Sanjay’s red eyes floated back his way. “Nothing much-”

Lucio flipped up a paper, skimming over the next page in a panic. “Which means?” he asked.

“Signing will make your life so, so, _so_ much easier. Mine too. Everyone’s.” Sanjay promised, “Take the hic- headache out of your work and fix everything once and for all.”

“So what does that mean?” Lucio had begun skimming the third page in a massive stack.

“My fa- One of my _supervisors_ sent it in last night, I haven’t had time to read it really, but I think it’s an update saying that you grant Vishkar complete creative control of all your endeavors.” Sanjay explained, gesturing excitedly as he flopped back in his seat. “So you won’t have to think about any of that anymore. Isn’t that great? Leaves you more time to think about other things, like… like… I’unno, stuff? Stuff.”

Lucio was frantically skimming the fourth page. “So when you say ‘complete creative control’?”

“It means Vishkar’ll do stuff… Like pick the songs you sing, write ‘em too, an’ all your music will go through Vishkar to ensure only the best quality, most marketable tracks leave here.” Sanjay explained, head drunkenly resting on his hand as he stared as Lucio, “Your outfits, your outings, your performances, your appearances, your press releases, your interviews... All of that will be in our hands, you won’t have to worry about it anymore. It’s that great? And you’ll also get a 5% raise and an extra 5% bonus of your sales which would then be put into your Vishkar stocks. It’s like free money. Who doesn’t like free money? It’s- it’s, like… free.”

His heart began to hammer in his chest. Why did they want to make his leash tighter? What had changed?

“That won’t be necessary.” Lucio told him, sliding the paper away. That seemed to sober Sanjay up some.

“...It’s not really your say.” Sanjay replied, scooting it back towards him and shifting around the papers on his desk as he seemed to be hunting for something. “Your sales haven’t been anywhere near their peak and your latest track-”

“Is eleventh on the chart. And still climbing.” Lucio finished for him. He had found a catchy phrase for them, and had finished recording his finalized Jamaican-inspired track after his other song had been inevitably turned down.  
  
 _Jump_ had earned its spot onto the world’s playlist. The song was loved, the arrangement commended for its fun and energetic beat, and praised as a return to his old sound, and the slapdash music video well-viewed, the song was getting played on the radio and in clubs, and the one lyric in the song, Lucio’s own autotuned and deepened vocals, “ _This beat Jamaican you jump_ ” that hit before the spicy drop was growing in popularity. On any chart, this song was a hit.

Sanjay huffed and reached into a folder, pulling out another set of papers. He threw them down on the table in front of Lucio and, upon closer inspection, realized it was his previous song submission, the one he had asked Satya to turn in a week ago.

A pointed finger was jabbed onto the paper. “This-” he loudly tapped the paper again. “ _This._ This was not okay. Why would you even think of submitting _this_ to me? I am not passing this along to my… my supervisors. Never. What is this garbage?”

“Lena’s music has been applauded for taking a stand and being real and raw.” Lucio answered with a shrug, rereading his own lyrics, “I thought I would try to follow the trend.”  
  
He used one of Sanjay’s favorite marketing phrases in an effort to appease him. Glancing out of the corner of his eye, he prayed for the sound of footsteps approaching the door. There was nothing. 

Where was Satya?

“Oxton’s track addresses a generally topical subject. Females and shutting up and not,” Sanjay slurred, jabbing his finger onto the paper again. “ _This_ is not general. _This_ makes people ask questions about you, about my f- about Vishkar. We don’t want that, right?”

Lucio shrank into his chair. “Right.” he agreed quietly, wishing he was anywhere else but right here.

“No, we don’t. We don’t.” Sanjay leaned in closer towards him. “‘Cause if people think you’re sad that looks bad for Vishkar, right?”

Lucio’s voice grew quieter. “Yeah.”

“And you’re not sad are you, Lucy?” he asked with a tilt of his head, faux concern turning his voice sickly sweet as he used Lucio’s least favorite nickname.

“...No, sir.” Lucio’s voice was now a whisper.

“Are you tired, Lucy?” Sanjay asked, leaning back into his chair. “I bet you’re tired. It’s exhausting being one of Vishkar’s stars, I’m sure, isn’t it?”

Lucio didn’t answer the question. He didn’t know how. Satya had drilled it into his head how even verbal contracts were binding and would hold up in court. Don’t answer questions you’re not confident about, she had told him. So he didn’t.

Sanjay took his silence as a yes. “Sure you are. You are.” he said, pushing the contract towards Lucio, “So help us help you. Sign it. Just sign smallish so that your whole too-long name can fit in here, okay?”

“It’s not too long.” Lucio murmured under his breath, glaring at the paper.

Sanjay leaned forward. “Didn’t quite catch that. What?”

“Nothing. Sir.” Lucio said quickly, avoiding his gaze.

“Whatever.” Sanjay waved his hand, as if brushing away that topic. “Just hurry up and sign and we can both do other things today, okay? Sign and you can go.”

Lucio gently shook his head. “I’ll wait for Satya and talk with her about this first, sir.”

“Why?” Sanjay flopped back into his seat, hand pressed against his chest. “She works for Vishkar, you know, she works for _me,_ my _family_. She would tell you to sign. Why waste anymore time? This is the only way to- this is what they- I have to- You have to…Lucio. Come on now.”

Lucio picked up the pen and twirled it between his fingers as he thought. He picked up the contract and leaned back in his chair, reading it over more thoroughly this time. He wasn’t the fastest reader when it came to legal papers because usually Satya handled those, but he was doing his best.

Sanjay let out a loud sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as he rested an elbow on the table, eyes shutting as he seemingly resigned himself to a long wait.

Lucio only had to decipher a page and a half before he came to the conclusion that this contract was not in his best interest.

“I’m not going to sign this.” he said, putting the pen back down on the table. “Not without revisions and not without Satya.”

Sanjay’s eyes opened back up slowly. “Say again?”

Lucio gulped before he spoke. “I’m not signing it.”

Sanjay’s head slowly dipped from one side to the other, and he glared tiredly at Lucio. He blew a fallen lock of hair off of his forehead and then slicked it back, the hair immediately falling back out of place.

“You don’t really have a choice, Lucy.” he finally said, shaking his head in disbelief as he spoke, “I’ll stop playing pretend with you now, you’ve got to sign it. For you, for me, for the company...This is how we fix the things. The things. The things they said I had to fix. This is the only way.”

Even Lucio knew, from numerous lessons from Satya, that he had bargaining power. Vishkar relied on selling products, and he was a product. They wanted to keep him on their shelf. They just wouldn’t admit that.

“I don’t have to do anything.” Lucio said, the papers crinkling in his tightening grasp.

“I used to say things like that _._ My father would backhand me across the face. Mother always preferred a closed fist; her lessons stuck more. I’ve learned my place, thanks to their guidance, you need to learn yours.” Sanjay stood back up and leaned forward. “Vishkar made you who you are. You would be nothing without Vishkar. My family owns your life. You don’t have a say here.”

“Vishkar made me, sure, but they _need_ **_me_ **to make music,” Lucio told him, “And I can keep making music with or without Vishkar. I’m open to negotiations, but not just signing this. No way.”

Sanjay laughed, the sound a bit crazed. “No way?” he repeated with a loud laugh, slamming his hands on the desk. “You little fucking timewaster, I got other things I want to do today other than babysit you, you Rio de Jan-asshole. You can’t say no. You can’t. They said I- You- I- You **have** to sign it. Today. Right now.”

“Every contract can be negotiated and renegotiated until the ink hits the paper and a name’s on the line,” Lucio said, quoting yet another Satya lesson. “I like my current contract. It works for both of us. I don’t-”

“It’s not working for both of us, don’t you _see_ that!? Why else would they tell me- ” Sanjay knocked the cup of pens off of his desk. “Read it again and tell me you’re still not going to sign it.” he said with gritted teeth and wide, wild eyes, lording over Lucio as best he could with a desk between them. “Just. To. Be. Sure.”

Lucio leaned back in his chair and cast one last look up at Sanjay before he lowered his head and reread the papers in his hands. As he was shaking his head in disagreement, murmuring the words to himself, and about to flip the paper once more, an explosion of pain blinded him.

Everything happened way too fast. Before he knew it, he was on the floor, falling out of and splayed over the tipped chair, hand clutching the left side of his face, his eye hurting too much to open. Eyes watering, he stared at the maroon carpet he now lay on, mind racing as he tried to understand what was going on.

\----  
“I- I- I-.” Sanjay stuttered as he stared at his own hand with wide eyes. He could feel his blood draining as he looked between it and the boy laying on the floor. 

He despised his father with every fiber of his being. When had he become him, the man who never hesitated to say _phatele nirodh ke natije_ to him at least once a week? No. Wait. That had been a closed fist. That had been his mother, hadn’t it? He- He hadn’t- It had been so easy, too easy, and he had just been so angry-. It wasn’t his fault.

It wasn’t his fault. If only the man had signed the contract. This wouldn’t have happened. This was all Lucio’s fault. It was. It was. Lucio had pissed him off. On purpose. He had. He was acting out. Misbehaving.

And misbehaving children get put back in their place. They do. Otherwise they never learn. That’s what this was. A lesson. He was teaching him a lesson. A lesson like the ones he had learned. If his own parents hadn’t guided him, then what would he have become? A wreck. A total wreck.

And that’s why Lucio was misbehaving. He didn’t have parents anymore, he had lost them while young. He hadn’t been raised right. He didn’t have anyone to guide him, to teach him how to behave. Vishkar should have done better raising him in the Academy...

No. No. Vishkar did everything right. His family always did everything right. They always did. Always. They were making the world a better place. That was why they had placed schools in developing countries. They were helping. They were changing the world. There were just so many obstacles.

And that’s why this was Lucio’s fault. He had made himself an obstacle. He was getting in the way of progress. Sanjay had done him a favor, knocking some sense into him. He had. He had. He did. How _dare_ he stand in their way.

Lucio needed to learn. Needed to know his place. Needed to understand that being an obstacle wasn’t allowed and that he needed to cooperate. Needed to learn to _never_ go against Vishkar. **_Ever._ **

And he would learn. Sanjay would make sure of it. All he needed was to be knocked back down to where he belonged. Vishkar didn’t _need_ him. **_He_** needed Vishkar. And Sanjay would prove it.

Stars weren’t born. They were made, carefully manufactured to succeed in a cutthroat industry. They were made by companies putting work, time, and money into them. Take away that support beam and what did they have left? 

Nothing. Nothing at all. That was when they crashed and burned.

And if their star Lucio had to plummet from the heavens and fall to earth to realize that, so be it.

\----  
Sanjay stared down at the fallen man as he knocked a stack of folders off of his desk. “My family’s company has put so much into you and this is how you repay us? You have one good song and you think you’re king of the music world? You’re _nothing but a_ **_fluke_ ** _._ ”

Lucio could hear footsteps getting closer and his body tensed. His fingers dug into his skin as his panic grew and all he could think in the midst of his heart-racing flurry of thoughts was that he didn’t want to cry in front of Sanjay.

Sanjay continued. “We _made_ you. Do you know how many other boys from the training camp would _kill_ to be in your position?” he was saying, “It would be easy - so easy - to pick one of them to take your place. You’re repl-”

The door to Sanjay’s office opened and Satya entered, eyes looking over the files on her phone. “You said you wanted to talk about marketing for Lucio’s _Jump,_ Sanjay-”

She looked up, eyes darting between Lucio’s prone form and Sanjay, whose thumb was rubbing against his now-sore knuckles. She gasped and then did something that Lucio had never heard before: she screamed.

“What the hell is going on here?” She yelled. She was by Lucio’s side in a second, placing a hand on his shoulder. His head was still bowed but he raised it slightly when he heard her voice, too dazed to do much else.

Sanjay looked between Lucio, his hand, and the papers on his desk. “...Contract negotiations?” Sanjay said, his face and body briefly crumpling with guilt as she glared at him. Now that someone was daring to call him out and remind him what he had done, his bravado began to crack.

“Co- Contracts?” she said, “You said this was a marketing brainstorming session to push _Jump_ as far as we could, not- not _contracts_.”

Her confusion was swiftly replaced by fury, the likes of which Lucio had never seen from her ever before. “What did you do to him!?” her hands were on Lucio’s shoulders and she helped him sit up. “Lucio, are you okay? Let me see-”

She had to pry Lucio’s hand away from his face, he didn’t want to stop holding it, and he winced as the light hit his eye.

“Okay, kind of red… that looks like it will bruise…” she slowly reached for his face but then stopped. Could she see that he was about to cry? He could tell that she was. “I don’t- I don’t-”

Her nerves faded as she whipped her head back to Sanjay, “His _face_ is _bruised_. What the hell were you thinking?”

Sanjay crossed his arms defensively, like a two-year not wanting to go into time-out. “It’s not my fault, if he had just si-”

“No- No. I don’t want to hear any excuses. Don’t. Even. Speak.” She motioned for him to stop talking. “You _hurt_ **_him._** Everyone is going to see how much of a-”

“He wears a _mask._ It covers his face. No one’s going to see it _._ ” Sanjay replied, his words tripping over themselves as he rushed to excuse himself, “Besides, _anyone_ can wear that mask of his. No one knows his face. He’s replaceable. If he keeps causing problems, Vishkar can find a new ‘Lucio’ with just a snap of their fin-.”

Satya’s hands wrapped around Lucio’s arms and he tugged him upright, helping him stand. “You could _never_ replace Lucio.”

Sanjay stared at the two of them with frustration and fury. “Don’t you question Vishkar’s capabil-... Watch me.” he swallowed thickly, picking up his cell phone and calling someone before Satya could even speak. “Listen, rebook the Utopaea Orchestra for next week at Oladele Amphitheater. I’ve got a new St. Patrick’s day act to push. Yeah. It’s a rush job. Yes. Lucio… uh huh. Slot him in and market it. I knew that’s only three weeks- it’s fine. Don’t mention an opening act yet. Push _Jump,_ and put _Breakdown_ as the closing track, that one’s still charting. Got that? Right. Yes, broadcast it, absolutely. Okay. Get it done.”

He hung up and looked their way. “You’ve got a performance coming up, press releases are being printed as we speak. You’re in charge of the set list and your own coordination, Vishkar will transport your items to the Amphitheater however. We don’t want to lose those. We invested much into them.” he said, placing his phone down on the table. “Find your own opening act. Coordinate your own shit. You think you don’t need Vishkar? You think you’re a big dog? Then go find out how easy it is to choke on the bone you’ve been gnawing on mindlessly for so long.”

“That’s St. Patrick’s day,” Satya said. “You booked him for St. Patrick’s day. People already have that day planned for bar hopping and parties, not concerts. And this is so short notice-”

He steepled his fingers and sent the two of them a pointed look. “If ticket sales don’t match the marketing costs put in two weeks after the concert, after the time for refunds expires, then consider yourself on probation which will necessitate contract renegotiations to even consider keeping you on the label.”

Satya glanced down at Lucio nervously before she resumed glaring at Sanjay. “And if it does match marketing?”

“Then maybe he’s too _good_ for Vishkar. Maybe he’s right and he doesn’t need Vishkat, can you believe it? I can’t.” Sanjay said with a shrug, “If that was the case, Vishkar would debate keeping him sidelined so that our other acts can catch up, restricting appearances, and putting his discography under lock and key, unless he’s open to contract modifications and signing this damned piece of p-”

“You are an absolute _bastard-”_ Satya hissed, then cursing out Sanjay in Hindi. Sanjay responded likewise, with the two of them arguing in a language that Lucio didn’t understand. And with how rattled his head felt, he wasn’t going to try to.

Next thing he knew, Satya was snatching the fallen contract off of the ground and dragging him out of the office, her and his bags in tow, taking him down to the medical care area on Vishkar’s premises. As they sat in the waiting room chairs, waiting for the doctor to get to him, she looked at Lucio tiredly.

“Why did you go to Sanjay’s alone before the meeting?” she asked, hand on his cheek as she continued to look over his injury.

His hand was back over his eye, so he had to turn in the seat to face her. “I thought you would be there-”

“The meeting was at 11:15, Lucio,” she said quietly, “Why would I be there before 11?”

“No- No, it-” Lucio paused, fumbling for his phone, “He changed the meeting time to 10:30-”

She grabbed his phone out of his hand, taking a close look at the message. “Oh my God,” she said under her breath, “He was trying to get you alone to- to.”

She gave Lucio his phone back and scanned the contract in her hand, only needing to read a few lines to understand.

“He was trying to trick or bully you in signing a new Vishkar contract. What are these stipulations? What madman wrote this?” she asked, voice growing more aghast the more she read, “ _Complete_ creative control? They want to run your life-”

Lucio quietly spoke up, head pounding too much to talk any louder. “Would you have told me to sign it?”

She looked at him with wide eyes, disbelief all over her face. “This?” she asked, glancing at the paper once more. “ _No._ Never. This is awful-”

“He said you would.” Lucio told her, clarifying, “Would have told me to sign it, I mean.”

She let the contract fall into her lap and placed her hands on his shoulders. “Lucio. I am your manager, but I am also your friend.” she reminded him. “Neither half of me would have ever told you to sign this. No. I look out for you and your best interest all the-”

She paused, swallowing, before she continued. “-as much as I can.” she promised. “And we’ll figure out things later, okay? After we make sure you’re okay. Okay?”

Lucio smiled slightly at her words. “Okay.” he said. “Thanks-”

The door swung open and a nurse called his number. He stood. “Do you want me to come back with you?” Satya asked.

“If you want.” Lucio shrugged.

“I’ll sit here for awhile then. I’d like to think for a moment. Have them fetch me if you need me.” she said, calling after him, “And get everything they say in writing so you don’t have to remember it.”

She watched him leave and it wasn’t until the door was shut that she let herself slouch into the chair. Her head rested heavily in her hand, fingers pressing hard as she tried - and failed - to relax.

She couldn’t decide what was worse.

The fact that she was having to ask herself what she was going to do about this growing mess?

Or the fact that she already felt like she had an answer?

\------

Lucio and Satya didn’t return to his apartment until late that evening. After they had spent a while at the medical center, and left with a cold compress for him, she had driven him around, at first offering him to get something to eat. Then after that was turned down, she asked if he wanted to go to a park and skate, because didn’t he love skating?

He didn’t have an appetite, though, even with a light, rushed breakfast. His stomach was in knots and his face hurt like hell and he was still trying to not cry.

Satya asked him if he wanted to press charges, but warned him it would turn into a media circus if he did, and his identity would probably be revealed. He said no, no thinking needed. He just wanted to move on from all of this and stop thinking about it and just live a peaceful life. She didn’t ask him again.

It felt like he was both not existing but all too present at the same time. He wanted to do everything and yet he wanted to do nothing, so he chose the latter.

She took him to a store as his compress began to warm, stopping by the freezer section to get him a bag of frozen peas to hold against his bruise, using her scarf to keep it from making skin contact.

Then she offered to make him anything he wanted tonight to eat tonight. Anything at all. She would even make him a steak. Anything if he would forgive her for letting him down.

He didn’t understand that. She hadn’t let him down. She never had. She was one of the few people that hadn’t. Why was she beating herself up so much?

He didn’t have anything he wanted to eat, so she put a few easy-to-make favorites into the cart, even buying him some of his favorite ice cream, a rare treat, a coconut and chocolate one that had coconut flakes in it.

Then after check-out, she took him back home, walked him up to his apartment, stepped inside, setting the groceries she carried on the counter and quickly taking the rest of the bags out of Lucio’s hands.

He flopped over on the couch, finding the bed too far, and she brought him some water, an ice pack wrapped in a towel, Jean’s sweatshirt, and a blanket. He hadn’t thought that he was tired, but he found himself waking up on the couch hours later, long after the sun had gone down.

Satya was putting away some food she had cooked which was, as Lucio found out as he walked into the kitchen for some more water, pan roasted vegetables flavored with balsamic and herbs, one of Lucio’s favorites from her repertoire, and chicken coconut soup with lemongrass. She normally made the soup without the chicken, but when asked, she would tell the truth and reply that she wanted to make sure that he was getting enough protein.

She had portioned the food while putting it away, leaving him an easily reheatable dinner whenever he decided to eat. As she was swapping out his ice pack for a colder one from the bottom freezer, he caught his reflection on the stainless steel fridge.

His left eye was all bruise, and swollen so much he couldn’t even open it, though he already knew that without seeing it. Luckily his actual eye hadn’t been injured in the blow, just the area around it. In two weeks, it should be mostly healed.

That meant that he had to look at himself like this for the next fourteen days and relive that fear of being attacked. Fantastic.

As she stood back up, Satya caught his crestfallen look. She handed him the ice pack, grabbed his phone off of the counter and a water bottle from the fridge, and walked him to his bedroom.

“Go back to sleep, perhaps? Or at least rest. Relax. Find some calm.” she said, handing him his phone, “Even if your calm isn’t here, perhaps you can contact him and talk? Maybe talking to someone would make you feel better?”

He eyed the phone in his hands and looked back up, getting a small nod in reply. “Is there anything else that you need before I go?” she asked him, receiving a delicate shake of his head in reply. “Call me if you need me. Don’t hesitate.”

As she began heading for the door, she paused. “And don’t worry about Sanjay and his threats.”

Lucio’s lips pursed at the thought of him. “Kinda hard not to.” he admitted, his voice tired and rusty.

“Don’t worry, alright? I’ll help you get everything together.” she said, “Rest easy, Lucio. I will take care of it.”

And after he assured her one more time that he was fine, she left, turning out the lights behind her. It wasn’t until he heard the sound of her locking the door that he let himself lay down. He flicked through some apps on his phone, trying to distract himself until he fell asleep, but that nap had powered him right up. He was looking at spending the night wide awake, and he wasn’t looking forward to it one bit.

Opening up his contacts list, he debated calling Satya, just so that he could keep talking to someone. She had said that he could, but what would that do? He would just be talking over the day again with her. All he wanted was a break from it.

He looked at the time and did some quick math. Midnight his time was… three am Jean’s time. He was working tonight though, he always sent Lucio his schedule, so there was a slim chance that he was still up.

_-R U awake?_

Lucio texted him, hesitating for a minute before he hit the send button.

Five minutes felt like an eternity, but he received a reply.

**-Yes :)**

**-Had to mop the bar area tonight after close.** **  
****-Gonna be a new weekly task. Fun.**

**-I just ate dinner**

**-How are you?**

**JBA**

_  
-Can we talk? _

_-On the phone?_

**  
-Everything okra?**

**-*Okay?**

  
Lucio debated how to answer that question and settled on sending him:

_-Just wanna hear your voice  
  
_

**-Video or phone call?  
  
**

_-Phone pls_

**  
-Give me 5 to get ready for bed**

**-Then I’ll call you**

**-Miss you** **_Cheri_ **

**JBA**

Lucio found himself staring at the phone screen for the next few minutes, only tearing his eyes away to make himself drink some water or to make his pillows more comfortable.

As his mind began to wander back to the day, his phone vibrated on his chest. Jean’s contact picture, a cropped selfie of a shot of him and Lucio in front of one of Horizon Suite’s waterfalls, lit up his phone. Lucio hesitated, composing himself before he answered.

“Hey, Lu. _S ak kap fet?”_ Baptiste said. What’s up?

“I just needed to talk to someone.” Lucio admitted. “I’m glad you were still awake.”

Jean paused for only a moment. “...Is everything okay?” he asked carefully.

“Today’s… today’s been a day.” Lucio replied, “I don’t want to talk about that. How have you been?”

Jean didn’t push him. Lucio knew that he wouldn’t. That was part of the reason that he had called him out of all the few people he had.

Instead, Jean filled the silence and filled Lucio in on how the last few days had been, talking about work, some of the odder customers at work, how the sweet lady who ran the foreign grocery was doing, how Olivia had gotten some freelance work to test online security by attempting to hack websites, and how she cracked them in five minutes.

The longer he talked about the peaceful life that Lucio was missing, the more he missed Baptiste. Just a voice on the phone was no longer comforting. He wanted to see his smile.

Video calling, however, was a two-way street, so there would be a caveat.

“Can I see you, Jean?” Lucio asked him during a lull in the conversation. “I want to see you.”

“Of course, yeah, we-”

“But you can’t say anything about- Don’t ask me any questions.” Lucio told him. “Please.”

There was silence on the other end. “...Okay.” Jean finally said. “I won’t.”

With a press of a button he was seeing Jean’s beautiful face, the man’s eyes eagerly meeting his. Then he realized that Lucio was holding a compress on his face, and his eyes widened for only a second before they narrowed and began roaming over his face. Baptiste was trying to analyze what was going on because he had promised not to ask about it.

“Lu…” he began. “...Allow me two questions about this, please. “

Lucio wanted to say no, but even he knew that wasn’t fair. Baptiste was making concessions, Lucio should too. “Only two.”

“Are you okay?”

That was a tougher question than Baptiste knew. Was he? Who knows?

“I’ll be fine.” he decided. “Today’s been a day.”

“Last question: Have you been to your primary care physician to check out your head injury to ensure there is no cranial bleeding or internal fractures?” Baptiste asked, adding, trying to lighten the mood, “I don’t do over-the-phone diagnoses.”

“I spent the morning at a doctor. No eye injuries, no head injuries like that.” Lucio assured him, removing the compress, “It’s just a black eye.”

Jean let out a low whistle as he looked at it. “That’s quite a shiner,” he said, “Well, black eyes aren’t the worst thing. They heal quickly too. Two weeks and you’ll be feeling just fine. I’m just glad you’re okay, Lu.”

Okay was rather subjective, but Lucio didn’t feel like arguing right now. This was Jean’s way of saying that he noticed, he cared, he wasn’t going to push it, but if Lucio wanted to talk about it he was all ears.

“I’m glad you were up to talk.” Lucio said, “You’re so calming and I always feel better after we do.”

Jean laughed. It wasn’t mocking, more an embarrassed chuckle. “You know, maybe I’m some kind of angel,” he said with a wink.

“Yeah-” Lucio could feel the tears that he had been holding back all day threaten to spill over. “You are.”

Teeth clamped down on his lip. He knew that if one tear escaped, a flood would follow and he didn’t want to cry. Not right now. Not in front of Jean-Baptiste.

Baptiste could see him barely holding it together. “It’s okay, Lu,” he said, “You can cry, sunshine. We all do.”

That did it. Almost as his command, everything that Lucio had been holding in spilled out of him. Fist covered his mouth as he silently sobbed, with Baptiste cooing reassurances in his ear the whole time.

Finally the well ran dry and Lucio could focus again. Jean looked into his eyes, making sure that he was back, before he spoke. “You look tired, Lu.” he said, “You said today’s been a day? Do you want to try to go to sleep and leave it all behind you?”

“I took a nap this afternoon and I’m so wide-awake right now.” Lucio admitted. “That’s why I called you. Because I couldn’t sleep and I needed someone to talk to.”

“And we’ve talked.” Jean assured him. “You’re sure you’re not tired?”

“Not a bit.”

“That won’t do.” Baptiste frowned, looking at the clock. “It’s already… one in the morning there. You’re going to be a wreck tomorrow.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m a wreck now.” Lucio replied. “I got a jump on that.”

“Hmmm.” Jean hummed as he thought. Lucio could see the instant that he had an idea, with how his head shot up and the smile that lit up his lips. “This might be stupid, but bear with me, Lu.”

He began to get up, leaving his phone on the bed, the camera staring at the ceiling. “Give me a moment!” he called over from somewhere, his voice growing more muffled as he got farther away. “I’ve got to find something.”

Lucio was left staring at a camera, listening as Baptiste ran around his apartment, looking for… something. The footsteps were going to and fro and then after three minutes, they were consistently getting louder.

Baptiste then launched himself back into bed, the phone bouncing as the mattress shook. He slid back down against the pillows and picked the phone back up.

“I want to try something, don’t laugh if it doesn’t work.” he said, grinning into the phone.

“I would never laugh at you.” Lucio promised.

Jean heaved something up into his lap with a grunt. “Close your eyes, mojito, okay?” he said, “Trust me. Lay down, put the phone down by your head, and close your eyes.”

Lucio did as he was told, gently placing the phone on the pillow next to him. His eyes shut, he tried to follow the breathing techniques that Satya had taught him.

Then Jean spoke, his voice even and calm. “A. The first letter of the English alphabet. A musical note or key referred to by the letter A: the sixth tone of a C-major scale. A grade that is given to a student for doing excellent work.” he said, and Lucio’s brows knit together as he tried to figure out what was going on, “Abandon. To leave a person, place, or thing, and never return to.”

Was this an English lesson? What was he doing?

Baptiste continued. “Ability. The power or skill to do something.”

He was reading something. What was he reading that had words and defin-

A dictionary. He was reading a dictionary. As Lucio realized what he was doing, he remembered talking about this.

_“I’ve gotta put work into my dirty talk it seems. I can’t get away with, say, reciting the dictionary.” Jean had said._

_“Reciting the dictionary might put me to sleep. Your voice is so soothing.” Lucio had told him._

He had remembered that small, insignificant conversation and was using it to try to help Lucio. 

He didn’t deserve Baptiste, the man was too sweet and too good, but, God, did he love him. Lucio found he could be vulnerable around him, but it was also Baptiste that gave him confidence he didn’t know he had.

He may call Lucio his sunshine, but he was Lucio’s moon, lighting up the darkest of nights and giving him hope.

Now that he stopped asking himself what was going on, he relaxed, letting Baptiste’s smooth voice wash over him like waves on a beach, soaking up as much of the zen as he could.

And by the time Jean was reading agriculture’s definition, Lucio had long since fallen asleep, clutching Jean’s sweatshirt and inhaling the faint scent of him that still lingered.

\----

Jean paused for a moment and listened, hearing the even breathing signalling that Lu had fallen asleep. He waited in silence, listening for a change in the beat that meant Lu was going to wake up.

There was none. He was out of it.

Smiling tiredly to himself, Baptiste closed the dictionary as quietly as he could and set it in his bedside table’s drawer, keeping it in easy access for the next time he needed it.

He picked up his phone, whispered a quiet “goodnight, _mon kè_ ” Lu’s way, blowing him a kiss before he hung up. Lu’s contact picture came up on the screen, a shot that Baptiste had snapped after Lu sipped his hot chocolate as they walked around the Horizon Suite, an unknown whipped cream mustache on his upper lip that Jean had informed him about only _after_ he had Lu smile for the camera.

He shut his phone off and sat up in bed, thinking. Black eyes were rarely good news.

There were two categories of injuries, Baptiste had decided when he worked in the ER. Unfortunate accidents and unfortunate purposefuls.

Accidents happened, sometimes they hurt people. Bruises, cuts, scapes, things that were no one’s fault or weren’t supposed to hurt anyone but unfortunately did.

Purposefuls were caused by people who _wanted_ to hurt people. Bruises, stabs, gunshots, strangulation, things that people did to harm others. 

A large bruise like that wasn’t from falling into a doorknob. He knew that, despite how many people he had met tried to convince him it was back in the ER. That was a one and done blow, unless there were other injuries Lu had hidden from him.

He put that thought to rest, Lu didn’t hide things. The man was an open book when it came to things like that. He would have mentioned other injuries.

The bruise, combined with his emotions, signaled a fight. But Lu didn’t seem like the type to pick fights. He was a ball of sunshine, not a sunray of death.

The question of “who would ever want to hurt Lu?” was quickly silenced by another, louder thought.

_What are you even going to do about it from here?_

And it was right. There was an entire country between them, Jean couldn’t do anything to protect him.

All he could do was keep his phone on him at all times and make sure that there was always a line of connection Lu could pursue if he needed an outlet.

He didn’t want to think about there being any danger for Lu. He didn’t want to think about how useless he would be if there was.

All he could do was make sure that he was always someone to turn to and someone that he felt safe confiding in, and be ready to offer whatever help needed.

It hurt him so much to admit it, but that was all he could do.

\-----------------

Satya Vaswani hated lipstick. It was messy, sticky, and it got everywhere, staining everything it touched. It smudged so easily and faded unevenly. It was rarely perfect, and if it was, then it faded away too soon to be worth the effort.

It was such a headache to keep track of and keep touched up. An annoyance she didn’t need in her life. She had so many, why add another?

So to anyone that knew her, it was a surprise that she would stop by a drugstore on her way to her apartment and pick up a cheap purple lipstick, the color bright and gaudy, something she would never wear by choice.

But she had no choice. Not anymore.

She purchased it along with overpriced bags of shelled pistachios and Swedish fish candy, tucking the lipstick in her purse with the receipt. A few indulgences would be excused. She was stressed today.

Then she drove home, stepped inside, dropped her bag on the table, and marched to her bathroom. She tore the plastic off of the lipstick, throwing the rubbish away in her bin, and eyed the bright wax.

Then she cracked it open, taking a moment to admire the perfect shape of the bullet before she ruined it. Her eyes flicked to her reflection, frowning at herself, before she then frowned at the incoming mess in her hand.

Resigning herself to her fate, she leaned over the counter as far as she could, carefully coating her lips. The color wasn’t as garish as she had thought, a deeper purple than she had anticipated. In a shirt or dress, it would be lovely. On her lips, she felt as if she looked like a clown that had been caught biting directly into purple yams from the stains on her face.

She rubbed her lips together, despising how tacky they were, both in texture and appearance and made sure that the coloring was even and neat as could be.

Then she held her left hand in her right and gazed upon her clean, lipstickless skin before she planted a solid kiss on the back of her hand. Her lips were pressed for longer than they needed to be, probably, but she wanted to make sure it was visible.

Pulling her head back, she had to kiss the back of her hand three more times before she deemed the mess satisfactory. Unpleasant, but good enough.

She grabbed her phone from her purse with her clean hand and took a picture of the mess on her hand, making sure that it was visible in the photo. She would rather not have to explain it or, worse, do it all again.

Then she sent the photo to Olivia, praying that the woman had meant it when she said that this was how Satya should wordlessly contact her.

After she was sure the photo was sent, she wiped away at the lipstick. It stained the sides of her mouth and she had to wash her face to get all of the gunk off of her.  
  
Satya Vaswani hated lipstick. But she would give it a pass this one time. Only this time.

By the time she had finished cleaning up and had dressed down for bed, wearing a soft oversized, tagless t-shirt and a pair of flowy, satin pants, there was a message on her phone.

 _-꒒ ০ ⌵ ୧ ♡_ _the purple on you <3_ _  
_ _Wanna see my new lipstick color too?_  
 _HMU! ( ’з｀)ﾉ⌒♥*:･。._ _  
_Talkalalka: ApagandoLasLuces

Okay, she didn’t know what a Talkalalka was, or if Olivia had remembered what she had told Satya about the purple lipstick communication method, but Olivia was trying to give her a different place to to talk, so that was a good start.

Curling up into the corner of her couch under her softest and most calming blanket, with a tall glass of Pinot Grigio and a now open bag of pistachios, she pulled out her tablet and made an account on the app. The username field she filled in last, finally deciding on one that she hoped that Olivia would recognize as her and what she was desperately needing right now.

She found Olivia’s profile on the app, her profile picture only a digital, purple looking skull, and hit the message button. A pop up told her that Olivia needed to accept the request to-

She didn’t get to finish reading it before Olivia accepted the request and the video began to sync up with her.

“Hi there, _PerfectHarmony,”_ she said, her voice tiredly husky, her hair sticking up wildly and not a drop of her usual heavy make-up on her face. She didn’t need it, she was beautiful fresh-faced, but makeup was meant for color and fun. Satya could respect that.

“Did I wake you?” she asked, surveying Olivia’s loose, low-cut pajamas behind her computer peripherals. “Oh, it’s late over there, isn’t it? I wasn’t thinking. Today’s just been-”

“Oh no, woe is me, I get to talk to a beautiful woman- Don’t worry your pretty head about it. So what are you talking to me on, _bomboncita_?” Olivia asked, stifling a yawn. “Computer, phone, tablet, highly-advanced refrigerator, magic mirror…?”

“A tablet.” Satya answered, “I bought it last Christmas, when it was on sale, to help keep my files organized and it’s bigger than a phone and… I wanted to play a puzzle game about matching flowers, Flower Flurry, on a bigger screen. It’s so _satisfying_ to have them all lined up at the end of every level…”

Olivia grinned as she reluctantly rambled. “You’re a gamer? Niiiiice.” she said, “I game too sometimes. There’s this shooter that I play, though it’s mostly for the characters and the bright visuals and story, because sometimes it’s not fun all the time… Though, now that I think about it, I’ve been making my own versions of the characters in my head this whole time, because there’s way too many gaps and loose ends in the incomplete story, and I think that’s why I enjoy it so much I suffer for it…Ooh…..”

She frowned, looking away a moment in thought, before she got back on track.

“Sooooo… this isn’t a company-issued tablet, you’re saying?” she said slowly.

“No. I bought it myself.” Satya said.

“So I don’t have to, like, praise Vishkar? Good.” she readjusted in her seat, and Satya tried to avert her eyes as her top did not hide much as she moved. Thankfully Olivia tugged it back into place before she continued. “What’s going on? Something happen?”

“They… He. Sanjay.” she tried to steady herself. Despite how much she had been rehearsing this since the doctor’s office, she still wasn’t ready to talk about it. But she had to. “He hurt Lucio.”

That grabbed Olivia’s attention. “What?” she said, her eyes waking right up. “What happened? Tell me everything.”

So Satya did. She started from what she had walked in on, Lucio having fallen after getting uppercut, and tried to fill in the gaps after the fact, giving up trying to parse anything useful from what he had gotten out of Lucio and instead just dumping every out of her brain in an ugly, unorganized pile of pain she dropped right in Olivia’s lap.

Her free hand wrapped into the loose fabric of her nightshirt, balling the fabric in her fingers as she finished talking. “I don’t know what to do.” she ended with, trying not to cry.

“Call the police?” Olivia offered. “That’s assault, point blank.”

“Lucio doesn't want to. And do you really think that no one has tried that before?” Satya said. “Sanjay’s family has got a lot of pull. The location in California is a test at branching out from India. Between the hefty donations that Sanjay’s family gives to various political organizations and the promise of the city getting the tax revenue once Vishkar commits to their usual massive company branch, they won’t touch him.”

“So he’s just getting away with it?”

“Money doesn’t buy approval, but it buys complicity. Anyone that would speak against him has already been bought off by his parents.” Satya informed her, taking a sip of her wine.

“What about that secretary you had to fill in for?” 

“She received extended maternity leave, a year of insurance costs waived, and was given a ‘baby-shower’ gift of five-thousand being put in a company account with interest.”

Olivia sighed, “So she’s been bribed and not an option. Would there be anyone else-?”

“The cameras would be wiped, and it would be a complete he said / he said affair, with Sanjay’s family able to pull ‘witnesses’ out of thin air that would corroborate with him, I’m sure.” she said, “And that’s even assuming that Lucio would ever want to even face that circus. He just wants to drop it and try to move on.”

“So is that what you would even want to do?” Olivia asked, ducking out of view for a split second. She reappeared with a juice pouch -a freshly chilled one, Satya had seen the fridge she had by her desk when she had spent the night - and tried multiple times to stab her straw in the small hole.

“No. No. If it was just me at risk, I would drop it. I know how to watch out, I’m a woman, I’ve done it my whole life.” she said, popping a pistachio into her mouth, reaching for the other bag immediately after “But he targeted Lucio and tried to trick him into signing a new contract. And hurt him when he didn’t comply, so I can’t turn a blind eye and ignore this anymore.” 

“Meaning?” Olivia asked, completely whiffing her stab attempt into the juice before she sleepily found the pouch again.

Satya’s face steeled itself and she squeezed a fish candy to death between her fingers. “I want Sanjay, and Vishkar, to burn and die a slow and miserable death.”

Olivia’s straw pierced the top of the pouch, stabbing it at an odd angle that thankfully didn’t unleash a torrent of strawberry kiwi juice on all of her equipment. “ _Híjole._ ” was all she said in response to Satya’s conviction.

She checked her pouch, made sure there were no leaks, realigning her straw and holding her juice carefully as she tucked her knees up into her chair. “I’m not in the business of actual assassination, but I’m good at character assassination.” she said, “I’m sure if I got to digging I’d find something...”

“Not on Sanjay. Or Vishkar.” Satya sighed, shaking her head, “They’re untouchable.”

Olivia sucked on her straw and smiled. “No one’s untouchable. Everyone has secrets, but not everyone pisses off others enough for them to be found,” she said, “Alcoholic bully obsessed with public appearance whose family might be committing tax fraud for one?”

Satya stared at her, dropping a pistachio into her lap. “Tax fraud?”

“I maaaaaay have done an itty bitty lil’ bit of preemptive digging into Vishkar after we talked last time.” Olivia admitted slowly, holding her fingers so close that they were almost touching in an effort to reassure Satya about how small of a scale it was. “I found some… rumors of Vishkar’s finances maybe not being in the most tippest-toppest shape and theories about taxes.” 

She found the pistachio hiding in the folds of her blanket, wiped it off on her pants, and ate it. “So what you’re saying-?”

“If I find concrete files as proof, I could probably bring Vishkar down and maybe get him some jail time.” Olivia said, “If it’s at the scale that was implied, it could close down this branch and put a dent in their finances. They would probably have to sell off some assets to stay afloat. Just give me the word, _mariposa_ , and I’ll see what I can do. Though we would have to lose each other’s numbers for now, and I would delete Lu’s, to be safe and minimize the chance of any of this getting back to either of you...”

If what she said was accurate, that meant that Lucio’s contract could be terminated… But…

“I… would love for them to be taken down, but I can’t approve that unless I know that Lucio has somewhere else to go. I can’t just take all of his hard work away like this.” she said, “I don’t know how I would contact labels and ask if they would be interested in him without raising suspicion. Hanzo looked over his current contract a few weeks ago and said that it’s iron-clad and there’s no way to get him out early-”

Olivia calmly nodded as Satya rambled, sipping at her juice the whole time. The loud sucking at the end of the pouch, the slurp of the straw cutting Satya off. There was an awkward pause as she continued to suck, making sure that she had gotten every possible drop of her drink out, before she threw it away.

“Breathe, Satya. We’ll figure something out.” Olivia tried to assure her.

“I don’t-” she hummed uneasily, “I’m trying to. Usually I just buy a treat for him afterwards, but that’s a bandaid on a wound that’s getting deeper and deeper. I can’t just try to buy small pieces of happiness and ignore the bigger problem anymore. I just don't know what to do-.”

She took a long sip of her wine and cracked open a pistachio. As she was chewing, she grabbed a piece of candy and ate that next. She was so stressed and angry and upset, at Sanjay, buy also herself, and nothing was helping-

“What’chu got there?” Olivia asked, watching Satya eat.

Satya guiltily looked at Olivia and then the food. “...A treat.” she admitted.

“I kinda want a treat too. No harm in treating yourself every now and then, you know?”

“I’ve been overindulging.” Satya explained with a sign, “I’ve just been so _stressed_ -”

“Shhh, _nena,”_ Olivia cooed, grabbing her own chest, “You’ve got two stress balls right _here_ if you need something to squeeze.”

Satya glanced down at her own chest, grabbed a boob, and kneaded it. Squeezing hard, she sighed. “Yours were much better for this than mine.” she confessed

“Really?” Olivia said with a tilt of her head, “I don’t believe it. Next time you’re in New York, lemme give ‘em a try.”

Her flirtatious joke ignored, and the mood still unlightened, Olivia then sighed and grew more serious.

“I have an idea,” she told Satya.

Satya’s head perked up. “What?” She would take any idea at this point.

“Lemme call my dad,” she said, making Satya wonder how that would help, “This whole situation sounds like something he might be able to help with.”

She stood, grabbing her phone from her bedside table and returned to her desk with it, a huge piece of a brownie-cookie dessert, and a purple box of juice, with the straw already stabbed inside it.

Sitting down, he pressed on the phone’s screen, holding it out so that Satya could listen in as well. It rang once, twice, three times before it was picked up.

The initial reply was a half-asleep grunt, a tired sniff, and then, finally, words. “Reyes here.” a deep voice said on the other end of the line.

“Hey, _papi_!” Olivia cooed energetically, “It’s Livvy-”

“Olivia, it’s- wait.” There was the sound of blankets rustling and quiet footsteps, a door opening and closing, and then more footsteps. “It’s almost five in the morning, Olivia. Is everything alright? Whose ass do I have to kick?”

“Yeah, yeah, um, no one’s, see-” she began, “I was talking to a _friend_ and we had a _hypothetical_ question that I think you can help answer.”

“A question.” he said tiredly, clearly annoyed at having been woken up for this.

“No, no, a _hypothetical_ question.” she clarified. “And you’re on speaker, so behave.”

“Speaker. Fantastic.” he let out a long sigh and then he was talking once more. “Well, it must be important considering you’re calling my personal cell at five in the goddamn morning. Alright, let me get to my office so I don’t wake Jack. Then we can talk.”

“ _Thank yoooou_ , Gabe,” she said in a sing-song voice, “You’re the best dad.”

“Well, I’ll be the most exhausted one tomorrow- today, that’s for sure.” His footsteps paused. “Jesse, what the hell are you doing up at this time of day and why is all that on the counter?”

A new, southern male voice spoke. “Could say the same to you, Gabe.” the voice - Jesse - said, “Stove’s still out in the guest house, so I was gonna make some biscuits and potato hash in here, quiet as I could, before you or Jack got up.”

“...Make enough for me and I’ll bring you some of the chicken chilaquiles I’m making tonight.”

“Throw in some churro chips for dessert and you’ve got a deal.” Jesse said, “Who’re you talking to?”

Gabe responded gruffly. “Olivia called. Had a question for-”

“Hey, Olive Oil.” Jesse called over, his voice getting louder as he actually closed the gap between them and spoke into the phone, “You see m’December concert with Liz n’ her boy?”

Olivia was smiling as she answered. “Yeah, I taped it, you dork.” she said, “So that I can watch you, my dear brother, make an utter fool of yourself on stage over and over and-”

“Hey, I thought I did pretty good.” he retorted, playing up how insulted he was with an exaggerated sniff.

“You were great, cowboy. Though I’m still glad you ditched the leather in the end. It did not suit you.” she promised. “Tell Liz and Bob-o I said hi!”

“Will do. Drop by for dinner sometime, y’hear?” he said in lieu of goodbye.

Satya knew that southern voice. It was very well-known, but she couldn’t place it. Jesse. Cowboy. Concert. December. Leather. Liz?... 

She figured it out.

Jesse McCree? The star country singer? Was that who that was? Really? Was he really Olivia’s brother? But they had different last names… unless McCree’s name was a stage name. She didn’t know. Was that the best cowboy name he could come up with?

Gabe resumed walking, now with a drink in hand as evidenced by the quiet sips that Satya could hear. There was a creak of leather as he sat in a chair and a click of fingers on a keyboard as he signed on to a computer.

“Alright, Olivia, I know how your _hypothetical_ questions work. I raised you. We’ve played this game way too much.” Gabe said with a yawn, “I’ve got to ask first, what’s the name of your friend you’re talking to?”

“Satya Vaswani.” Olivia answered for her. “She’s a lil’ shy, but she’s right here, I promise.”

“Sat- Hmmm.” The fingers on the keys still, “And how do you _hypothetically_ spell her name?”

“S-A-T-Y-A. V-A-S-W-A-N-I.” Olivia spelled out for him. The tapping resumed and she could hear Gabe let out a curious “huh” after he finished. 

“Vishkar, huh? Alright…” he murmured, “So what’s the question? Pardon, the _hypothetical_ question?”

“Okay, so, we were talking about girly things, lipstick, shoes, chocolate, you know how it is, and then we just, uh, girly wondered about what you and Jack think about Lucio, the DJ who’s signed with them - Vishkar.” Olivia asked, tearing a large bite of her baked good off from the massive hunk in front of her.

“I think he’s signed with Vishkar.” Gabe replied simply.

“Gaaaaaabe, I’m asking you as Gabriel, not as Overwatch Records co-owner or Blackwatch Sound’s founder.” she said, waving around her food as she talked, “Just Olivia, Livvy, to Gabe, on his private phone, and a completely _hypothetical_ question.”

Satya’s eyes widened as she finally understood. Gabriel Reyes. The man married to the leader of Overwatch Records, the record company giant. One of the titans in the music industry, with countless top artists signed to their label, including McCree and The Do Something’s. The man who was the founder of Blackwatch Sound, the concert tour production company, the top behind-the-scenes folk of the music world. _THAT_ was Olivia’s father? 

Oh God. _Are Baap re_ . She was talking to _him??_

“I think he’s good. His first album was stand-out, the second considered a flop to some. His new hit is good. Really good. I heard it played at four different times today, never got tired of it. It’s an out-the-gate star and, if his other music keeps on trend, he’s back in the game.” Reyes said, carefully picking his words. “Luckily, we don’t have any artists competing in his musical field. The Do Something’s would be the closest, but they still fit under _country_ pop. It’s a gap I’m not keen to fill while competing with him, to be perfectly honest.”

Olivia met Satya’s wide eyes and asked the next question.

“So, if say, _hypothetically,_ Vishkar went under and he was a free-agent, would you, say, _hypothetically_ be interested in signing him?”

Gabriel said nothing at first, the silence awkward stretching for two minutes, before he said a slow, “...Olivia.... What is-”

“This is all _hypothetical_ , of course,” she reminded him, “Answer the question, Gabriel.”

“Well that’s not the easiest question to just _answer_ -” Gabe sighed, “First instinct is yes, assuming he’s not a diva behind the scenes and that his catalogue was part of the deal, that would be definite yes. His first songs are timeless and having the licensing rights in the bargain would be massive.” 

“Oh, he’s not a diva.” Satya promised.

Olivia agreed. “He’s like the sweetest boy. We’re friends.” she concurred. “He and Jean even have, like, the cutest relationship.”

Gabe stuttered. “Wait, you know him? _Know_ him? You and J-” he asked Olivia. “You’ve met- _When?_ Does he have a face? _”_

“Of course he has a face, Gabe.” Olivia scoffed. “What? Did you think he was a frog robot or something?”

“No comment. Especially not one about how I thought he was a robot designed to be perfect and appeal to a massive demographic...” Gabe said quickly. “I also may owe Jack twenty bucks for an unrelated reason… _When_ did you meet him, Olivia?

“He was just in New York one day and, uh, okay, well, I think that answers that!” Olivia said quickly, stuffing her food in her mouth and moving to turn off her phone, “Thanks for helping me and Sa-”

“No. Olivia. Wait. _Wait._ ” Gabriel said, his tone making her immediately freeze,“I also have some _hypothetical_ questions I need some help with. Don’t you **_dare_ **hang up.”

“Fiiiine, dad,” she said with a sigh and an eye roll, flopping back into her chair. “What?”

“So, maybe it’s because I’ve never been great at _girly_ talk, but I’m absolutely fascinated about what kind of _hypothetical_ situation leads to high and mighty Vishkar failing…” Reyes said, “So what did you girls dream up?”

“Um…” Olivia looked between the phone and Satya, unsure of how to answer. This wasn’t her place to speak.

“ _Hypothetically_ ,” Satya began, “Sanjay-”

“Isn’t the nicest guy.” Olivia finished for her.

There was another creak as Reyes leaned back in his chair. “Oh?” he said, “Do tell… about this entirely _hypothetical_ situation.”

“He’s got a temper.” Olivia said. “Threw a paperweight and left bruises on Satya’s neck.”

“He’s thrown a cup of hot coffee at a temp, hitting the wall besides him, and scared a pregnant woman into taking early leave in fear for her unborn child.”

“Possible tax evasion to trace to his family.”

“He’s escalating his behavior, growing more unhinged, and attempted to bully Lucio into signing an awful contract by changing the meeting time and getting him alone and then giving him a black eye when he didn’t want to sign.” Satya said. “All _hypothetically_ , of course.”

Gabe blew out a low, whistly breath as he listened to their hypothetical list. “I _knew_ that guy was too put together. There was also some off and twitchy about him and his family, something slimy that you couldn’t place. There had to be something behind the scenes. I just _knew_ it.” Gabe said, slapping his desk from the sounds of things. “Jack owes me fifty bucks.”

“Gabe, this is serious.” Olivia said, “ _Hypothetically_ serious.”

“Yeah, absolutely, and Jack owes me fifty bucks.” Gabe said, “So, let’s say that Overwatch was _hypothetically_ interested in signing him if he were to ever be a free-agent. What would be the _hypothetical_ timeline?”

“A few weeks at least, depending on how easy it is to find proof- _hypothetical_ proof of anything, assuming that it’s there to be found.” Olivia answered.

All the hope that had slowly been building in Satya deflated at Olivia’s reply. A hand flew to her mouth as she tried - and failed - to stifle a whimpering sigh that escaped her.

Olivia immediately looked her way, looking over the other woman. “What’s wrong?” she asked quietly.

“That’s not fast enough.” she confessed, hands shaking, “Sanjay’s booked a New York City concert for him to perform in three weeks that _Lucio_ and _I_ have to try to arrange ourselves, save for marketing, and if he doesn’t break even after the refund period he’s going to be forced to sign the contract, and if he does, he has to sign the contract and no matter what I do his career is being held hostage or is going to tank at that failure of a concert and I’m trying so hard to get him out and I- there’s no winning. We can’t win. We’ve lost.”

Satya fell back against the couch while Gabe laughed. He actually laughed. Satya was going to cry.

“Well, yeah, if you play the game by _his_ rules, you’ve lost already. There’s no way to win,” he said, “So let’s change the rules and play a game of our own. Do you have security for the facility?”

Satya looked hesitantly between Olivia and the phone in her hand. “Not yet, I’ve got a few companies to call and get quotes from-”

“Call Helix Security when it’s not a godforsaken hour in the morning. Drop my name. They’ll give you a discount, I give them a lot of business. Boom, done.” he clapped his hands decisively, and Olivia’s smile grew as he continued. “What’s next?”

Satya looked curiously at the phone and Olivia’s hand and continued hesitantly. “I’ll have to find some sound engineers to get the systems ready.”

“I’ve got some boys from Blackwatch I can loan you, probably. Send me times and dates.” he said, “If worst comes, I’m sure Olivia could drop by and get everything ready, but we shouldn’t have to bug my lil’ princess about that, right?”

“Gabe… are you in a concert planning mood?” Olivia teased.

“ _Hypothetically,_ yeah. I hate people who play dirty, so let’s level the field... Just don’t tell Jack about this. Yet.” Gabe said, “Have you got an opening preshow act yet?”

“I’m in talks with a friend about that, so I think I do.” Satya said, relaxing into the chair. 

“Choreography?”

“I have someone.” She answered, “Do you have a light company you would recommend?”

“I’ve got a couple, actually, but it’s gonna be tight-” he said, “EDM concerts thrive on light shows and that’s gonna take some time to sync up to your boy’s music-”

Olivia leaned forward in her chair, her shirt dipping low. Satya was distracted momentarily until she realized what Olivia was saying. “-got something I’ve been working on that might help.”

Gabe sounded as confused as Satya felt. “What would that be?”

“I’ve been developing a program that pulls from an audio visualizer and lays out a potential groundwork for a lighting program for music events.” she explained, “I’ve been testing it at Akande’s club and-”

“...When were you going to tell me about this program of yours exactly?” Gabe asked quietly.

“I’m using Akande’s as a testing ground to leave the beta so I can iron out the kinks and make the 2.0 version marketable,” she said, “And, of course, I would give you and Jack a chance to buy it from me first before I begin talking to other companies...”

“That’s my girl,” Gabe praised her, “Think if you set up my boys with a beta copy, we could give it a test drive with his music behind the scenes and see if we can offer a bid on Lucio’s concert? How’s that sound to you ladies?”

“Amazing-” Satya couldn’t believe this was happening. “Do you have a stage crew that-”

“I can give you a couple of names to call, my boys included, so you can take your pick-” he blew out a breath as his fingers raced on the keys, “Let me text Jesse real quick and ask him to bring me some breakfast. It looks like we’re gonna be here awhile working out some details for your boy’s show. Can’t plan a concert on an empty stomach.”

Satya relaxed into the couch, draining the rest of her wine, and then grabbing a notebook off her table so that she could keep notes. All her prayers were being answered by a grumpy, five o’ clock shadowed half-asleep Hispanic man that owned a rival company at 5 in the morning his time across the country. Angels really did come in all shapes and sizes.

They might actually be able to do this. The concert might not be a flop after all and for the first time there was an end in sight, a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, so close that she could taste it. With Olivia’s help, and Gabe’s of course, the show might very well be able to go on.

And there was nothing hypothetical about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:  
> Phatele nirodh ke natije: you are the consequence of a torn condom  
> S ak kap fet?: What's up? (Haitian Creol)  
> Mon kè: My heart (Haitian Creole)  
> Bomboncita: sweetheart/sweetie  
> Híjole: Hot damn/wow  
> Mariposa: Butterfly  
> Nena: honey/babe  
> Are Baap re: Oh my God
> 
> Kudos, comments, and feedback are always super appreciated!  
> (Hypothetically. ;] )
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3
> 
> Questions, comments, or concerns? Hit me up on here or on my Twitter: https://twitter.com/KittenzCaboodle


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Chapter warning  
> Anxiety
> 
> Happy reading! <3

One week until his concert, two weeks later, Lucio was waiting outside his building for Satya, backpack in hand.

His black eye had thankfully faded to a greenish yellow and he was able to open his eye completely. His face no longer hurt as much, though the bruise was still tender to the touch and he still iced it some when he was at home. He and Baptiste had been texting a lot, at least once a day, and thankfully he hadn’t asked any questions about it.

He was dressed for working out, in a baggy t-shirt, a pair of dark sweatpants, and a comfortable pair of sneakers. Satya had told him that she had managed to book a pre-show act and that they were heading to a reserved dance studio to meet and coordinate with the act, and practice some moves.

As he thumbed through his phone, her car pulled up. He had said that he wouldn’t have minded skating to the studio, but she insisted on driving him. He didn’t argue. He knew that she was busting her ass trying to get the show online, and while he tried to do all that he could to help, she wouldn’t give him anything to do except work on himself and make sure that he was healing alright.

He climbed into the car and buckled his seatbelt before he greeted her. He knew from experience that she would have interrupted him to remind him to buckle up, so he always made it the first thing he did.

It was a mystery who they were meeting. She had yet to tell him and he didn’t bug her to. It could be that she didn’t want to tell him, it could have just slipped her mind in the chaos. Either way, he didn’t push her. He would find out at some point who it was.

“Did you eat breakfast?” she asked him.

“Yup.” he said.

Her hands gripped the wheel tighter. “What did you have to eat?”

“Greek yogurt with fruit and granola and some sunny-side up eggs.”

Her fingers flexed momentarily. “Are you excited to meet your opener?” she asked. “I know this week has been hectic, I’m so sorry about it, but I was able to call in a favor and get a big name. I wish we had more time to practice, but this was the first day they could meet.”

“I’m excited.” he said, relaxing back against the chair. He smiled at her. “I’m looking forward to meeting… whoever it is.”

“There we go..” she murmured under her breath, Lucio just catching the words, before she resumed talking to him. “They’re both wonderful gentlemen, I’ve no doubt you’ll all get along great.”

A few minutes later they were pulling into the studio’s lot. There was only one other car outside, as she had booked the place for them for the day. She parked and they climbed out, both carrying a bag of their own as they had prepared to spend the day rehearsing.

The inside was clean and bright, and they walked down the hall to a massive wood-floored room and with mirrored walls. Two men stood inside the room, engrossed in a conversation with each other.

One of them spotted Lucio and Satya entering the room from the mirror’s reflection and turned to greet them.

“Hello,” he said, walking towards them and giving Lucio a chance to look him over. It was an Asian guy, older than him, but built like the patron saint of muscle magazine models. Even with the loose, casual clothes he wore, Lucio could see that he was all muscle. His facial hair was neat, his hair was tied back out of his face, and his eyes were tired.

He bowed deeply in front of Satya and Lucio. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” he said, standing back up and looking at Lucio. “My name is Hanzo Shimada and I’m here to help you and him-” he thumbed at the other man behind him “-with choreography.”

The other man, who was creeping up behind Hanzo, placed his hands on his shoulders and flung him back and out of the way.

“Hi! The name is Genji Shimada, I’m Hanzo’s brother.” he said, sticking his hand out for a handshake, “I’ve heard a lot about you, Lucio. It’s great to finally meet you!”

“Oh! Genji Shimada?... Oh oh oh Genji Shimada!” Lucio said excitedly, “Yeah, I’ve heard Satya talk about you. Your song  _ Free as a Bird  _ is so great, oh my gosh.”

Lucio shook his hand - Genji had a friendly but tight grip - and looked between the two brothers. It was easy to tell that the two men were brothers if going by facial similarities, because it was obvious that they were related. However, their styles were entirely different.

While Hanzo’s hair was black, and shaved at the sides, with the rare bit of gray sprinkled in, Genji’s hair was bright green. Hanzo had a neat beard, and Genji was clean-shaven. Hanzo wore dark blue clothes, Genji’s were bright; he wore a white t-shirt, a bright green pair of jogging pants, and yellow and pink sneakers that Jean would absolutely love. Hanzo was more serious and tense, and Genji more relaxed. It was like looking at a yin-yang come to life, two halves of the same whole.

“Ms. Vaswani-” Hanzo began.

“Please, drop the formalities, Hanzo. Satya is fine.” she said, “Unless you wish for me to call you Mr. Shimada?”

“Please don’t, Satya. I beg of you.” Hanzo replied, pointing to some folding chairs that had been put up. “I fetched some tea this morning as we were heading in. I believe at one point you said you like black tea with lemon?”

“I do.”

“Ah, good. I got one for you. Yours is the one without the sleeve,” he said, “The one with the sleeve is mine. Don’t drink that one. It’s green tea. Enjoy your drink. We’re going to be here awhile.”

“Oh, why thank you!” she said, looking at Lucio, finally explaining. “Genji is going to be your opening act. It’ll help promote his upcoming tour as well as give you an up-and-coming name in the music industry as your preshow act. Thank you again for-”

“You don’t need to thank me.” Genji told her. “I’m happy to help! I’m glad that you and Hanzo were able to arrange this at all, even with my tour about to start.”

“And Hanzo is excellent at choreography. He and Genji both are, pardon me-”

“No, he’s better, you’re right.” Genji said.

“You’re more natural though.” Hanzo countered.

Satya continued. “-and they’re going to spend the day helping you learn how to feel more at ease on stage, I hope, working with you to create a dance for  _ Jump _ , and help you learn Genji’s routine in case you have to be on stage when he’s performing because Vishkar demands it or something.” she said, adjusting the bag on her shoulder, “I’ll be over there by wall working if you need me. But for now, I leave you in their very capable hands.”

She walked past them, leaving Hanzo with the two brothers. Hanzo’s aura was intimidating, but Genji’s felt friendly at least. Satya trusted both of them, though, so Lucio knew that there was nothing to fear.

“So what are we learning first?” Lucio asked excitedly, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

“Standing double aerial into a back handspring into cartwheel into front walkover into front flip into cartwheel into triple double into dolphin dive into floor spin into side pose finish with flair.” Genji rattled off, posing dramatically as he finished rambling.

Lucio’s jaw dropped lower the longer he talked. “...What?” he finally said when Genji stopped talking.

“Ignore him.” Hanzo advised, dismissing Genji’s words with a wave of his wrist. “The first thing we do is stretch and warm-ups. You’re not pulling any muscles. Not on my watch.”

And they did just that. From pulling his foot up behind him to stretch his hamstrings to a slow jog in place to get his blood flowing, Hanzo coached him and Genji (who was following right along) through a half-hour long warm-up, to make sure that their bodies were loose and ready to get to work.

“First we’re going to work on individual moves, get those down, and then slowly work on chaining them together using Genji’s routine as practice.” Hanzo explained, his voice like that of a teacher’s, calm and clear. “Then, once we get more comfortable, we’ll start picking out your favorite moves and finding the most cohesive way to chain them into a routine. If you need a break at any time, please say so. I’m not my father and I will listen when you ask to stop, do you understand?”

Lucio straightened up. “Yes, sir.” he said. “I’m ready to learn.”

Hanzo looked him over. “There was never any question about that.” he said, “Alright, let’s begin.”

Their appearances weren’t the only way that Hanzo and Genji differed. Their dance styles were also unique to them, and Lucio found his eyes wandering to their forms as they practiced together.

Hanzo moved so precisely, his footwork quick and somehow soft but so heavy looking. His moves had weight to them, despite how light he was on his feet. It reminded Lucio of a warrior, with how confident and authoritatively he moved, someone you didn’t want to challenge at all if you could avoid it.

Genji’s moves were light throughout, and much more fluid than his brother’s. Hanzo had been telling the truth when he said that Genji was a natural. He danced as effortlessly as he breathed, and his movements were more playful, sometimes even coy. His dance was flirtatious and alluring where Hanzo was powerful and sexy, despite them doing the same moves.

After doing a Jerk then popping into a Crazy Legs for the umpteenth time, Hanzo leaned over as they stood and whispered into his ear. “Eyes on your own form for now when doing the set.” he said, “I want you to learn how it feels to do the moves right, so that they come naturally when you don’t have a mirror and you’re on skates, okay?”

Lucio was glad that there was already a flush on his cheeks so that his embarrassment at being busted didn’t show. “Okay.” he said, immediately staring at his own reflection in the mirror. He had been busted.

Despite that, his anxiety never spiked as they worked. Genji heaped on plenty of praise and offered plenty of suggestions, demonstrating the moves slowly every time Lucio asked, and Hanzo may have never smiled, but he was never not kind or gentle. He always asked before he touched Lucio, carefully guiding him through the motions and correcting his footwork once permission was given.

After hours of work, and frequent water breaks, he had Genji’s routine for  _ Free as a Bird _ down, Genji’s hot single that he would be singing before Lucio’s show.

“Now,” Hanzo said, “I’m going to hand over to Genji for a while while you two brainstorm a dance for  _ Jump _ . I’ll be doing some observing and making my own notes and I’ll return with a plan. Get your skates on and go over the moves again.”

Hanzo walked away and settled on the floor by Satya, uncapping a bottle of water, his tea long since drunk, and pulling a notebook out of his bag. He had meant it when he said that he was doing some observing. Boy, was he ready to.

Hands on his knees, Genji grinned up at him. “You ready?” he asked, getting a nod in reply. “We’re gonna go through some of those moves again, tell me which ones feel the most natural.”

“Yeah, okay-” Lucio said, wiping at his damp brow. “Can I just say that I love your hair and how green it is? And how you dress? It’s so cool, man.”

Genji’s grin grew brighter at the compliment. “For real?” he asked. He and Lucio had begun making cracks at each other as they had grown more comfortable working together.

“For absolutely real,” Lucio assured him. “No fooling.”

“Oh, thanks!” he said, pausing a moment in thought. “Hey, Lucio? Do you have an older brother?”

Lucio shook his head. “No.”

Genji clapped a hand onto his shoulder. “Can I be your older brother?” he asked.

“Okay,” Lucio agreed with a shrug. Probably couldn’t pick such a cool, smooth, or nice brother if he tried. He had been getting along great with Genji the whole time and, if he were honestly, having an older brother like him sounded kinda nice.

His other hand clasped Lucio’s other shoulder and he turned towards his actual brother. “Hey, Hanzo!” he called out, getting his older brother’s attention and interrupting his conversation with Satya. “I’ve decided that he’s now my younger brother-”

Hanzo didn’t even look their way, instead already writing in his notebook. “You can’t just decide that for him, Genji-”

“-and he’s agreed.” Genji proudly continued.

Hanzo finally raised his head and looked between them, pen in hand. “I don’t think you’re ready to be an older brother.” he said, “It’s quite stressful.”

“I absolutely am,” Genji said back, “For one he won’t be half as annoying as I am, so it will be more than twice as easy than you had-”

Hanzo nodded in agreement. “That’s true. You cherry-picked a good one,” he looked Lucio’s way and called out to him. “Welcome to the family.”

Lucio had no idea how much those words would affect him. It gave him a warm feeling in his chest as he realized that there was yet another place in the world that he could belong.

He got his skates and he and Genji began the long task of going over everything again, now in skates. Luckily, for Lucio, life on skates was almost no different than on solid ground. Transitioning the moves from the heels of his feet to the wheels on his feet was easy and it let them focus on developing a choreography as a whole instead of focusing on bits and pieces.

After a while of trying to find a flow of moves of their own, Genji asked him a question. “You’ve got a song with choreography fleshed out already, right?  _ Breakdown? _ ”

Lucio’s heart stopped when the name of  _ the  _ song was said. “Uh, yeah.” he said quietly.

“I thought so. I’ve overheard Hanzo and Satya mention it when they’re talking-”

“Do they talk often?” Lucio had to ask him.

“A bit,” Genji nodded. “Hanzo’s new to managing so Satya’s been mentoring him, and in exchange he’s been helping her out when he can. They’re, like, work-friends. Gossip about the industry sometimes, talk about work more.”

“Oh.” Lucio said, “I didn’t realize that.”

“Mmm, yeah. It was nice of Satya to reach out and offer help. Sweet lady. Makes sense, she’s managing a nice dude.” he said, “Anyway?  _ Breakdown? _ Do you still know the choreo?”

“Um, more or less.” Lucio said reluctantly.

“Great!” Genji said, “So if I pulled up the song, could you perform the dance for me? I want to see how smoothly you transition from move to move in a set, rehearsed routine. Do you mind?”

Did he mind? Did he mind having to hear the song that still haunted him to this day? Yes, absolutely.

But he didn’t say that. He couldn’t. He had to face the song again, after all it was what he had to close the show with. People would expect it to be performed all the way.

“No, I don’t.” he lied to Genji. 

Genji nodded and then walked over to the radio set up on a table on the far side of the room. He picked up the phone connected to the studio’s bluetooth system and searched for Lucio's song  _ Breakdown _ . He tapped the screen and then the opening of the song began to play.

The speakers were hooked up in all the corners of the room and the song boomed throughout it, echoing off of the walls.

Lucio didn't look Satya's way, but he could see her head snap up in the reflection of one of the wall mirrors. Her eyes were watching him, wide and worried.

She didn't think that he could do it.

She might be right.

His heart sank low and began to race, and his stomach bottomed out, but he tried to stay strong.

He stood there stiffly on his skates, waiting for his musical cue. His knees were locked and his hands were balled up into fists. He had long since averted his gaze from the mirrors, staring at the floor as the beat neared its drop.

Then his cue hit and he tried to find his rhythm. Thankfully, after all this time, he still knew the moves. His muscle memory hadn't failed him yet and today wasn't going to be the first day.

As he neared the halfway point of the song, the failure zone, his hearing was being taken over by the sound of his heart thudding in his ears and the incoming panic began to make everything fuzzy. Even without the helmet on his head, he felt constricted and found it hard to breathe.

He dared to look up and saw Hanzo's dark eyes staring at him. The man looked worried, like he expected the worst, and then was when it hit him.

Hanzo knew. Hanzo knew that he was going to fail and he was waiting for the other pin to drop. He was waiting for the worst to come.

And, realizing that no one believed in him, to no one’s surprise, Lucio found himself about collapse yet again. 

He tried to power through it, he tried so hard, but his limbs grew heavy as flashes of the night popped into his head. The swimming stage lights, the panic, the helplessness, the hospital, the aftermath… how the world had seen him as the fraud that he was. The failure. 

And now the world was going to watch him fail all over again.

Tears sprung to his eyes and his knees gave out. He crouched hands flying to clutch at his temples as he failed again.

Over and over he failed. There were only so many chances he was going to get and he was blowing through them so fast. Too fast. 

The world wasn't going to wait for him, they would all move on and leave him behind for the next big thing. They would all move on. Everyone would.

He didn't realize that the music had been shut off. He didn't even feel the hands on his shoulders, Genji's panicked and confused reassurances or hear Genji call for Hanzo's help. He didn't react to Hanzo prying his hands away from his face, rubbing a hand up and down his back to try to calm him.

It wasn't until Satya took his hands in hers that he even started to snap out of it. As he found himself back on the floor, his teeth grit and tears from his eyes.

No. 

No.

NO! No no no! It was just a stupid- why couldn't he- why was he such a failure?

"What. Is. Wrong. With.  _ Me _ ?" He yelled, ripping his hands out of Satya’s grip and smacking his own head with every word. 

Hanzo quickly snatched his hands and restrained them. As strong as Lucio was, Hanzo had him beat and kept him from doing so again.

Satya placed an uneasy hand on his shoulder. “There’s nothing wrong with you-”

“Then why can’t I do the  _ stupid  _ dance?” he asked her, laughing hysterically at himself, the person that everyone was realizing was a failure, “Why- I can’t do it. I can’t do it. I can’t. I  **_can’t_ ** _. _ ”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Genji was busy apologizing to everyone, especially Lucio, “I didn’t know that- I didn’t realize- why did you say that you didn’t mind if it  _ hurts  _ you-?”

“Because I  _ have  _ to do it,” Lucio cried. “I have to get over whatever  _ this- _ ” he tried to gesture to himself, but Hanzo still restrained him, “-is and fast and do it in front of  _ everyone _ . It’s the show’s closer and everyone is expecting a good closing song complete with the dance and everything. I bomb that, it’s going viral. Just like last time.”  
  
“Has it been billed as the closer or is Sanjay demanding it?” Hanzo stoically asked Satya.

“It’s been advertised as such extensively. That was out of my control.” she answered quietly.

“So it’s essentially contracted as part of the ticket sales.” he sighed, “That act doesn’t happen, people could actually demand refunds because of it and that depletes your profits and you lose. Damn it.”

“Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if I lose.” Lucio cut in, “I’m replaceable. Anyone could wear that helmet and go out on that stage and do a better job than me-”

He felt Hanzo stiffen, “Who told you that?” the man asked.

“Sanjay, but he didn’t have to. I already know-”

Hanzo looked Satya’s way. “Has this boy ever had a day of stability in his life? I’ve heard you mention the schools and the camp, where everyone is pitted against each other,” he said, “But still, even now, after years of work, and making it to the top, he still doesn’t feel stable… no wonder he’s cracking.”

Genji sat down on the floor next to him. “That’s not true at all, Lucio, you’re not replaceable. I’ve watched your shows, Lucio, I love your energy and your songs,” he said, “There is no one like you. You’re one of a kind.”

Hanzo added in. “Do you think that musicians would sell out shows and be popular if just anyone could do what they did?” he asked, cautiously letting Lucio go, though keeping a hand on his back. “Not everyone is blessed with natural talent, and not everyone puts in the years of effort to hone their skills to be better than everyone else. You are far from replaceable. They can’t find another one of you, that’s why they’re taking away as much of your power and control as they can. So they can lock you in. Don’t let them lock you in.”

“It must be a heavy weight to carry, thinking you’re replaceable. Drop that weight. I can assure you, I wouldn't just pick anyone to be my younger brother,” Genji continued. “I’ve got standards, believe it or not.”

Lucio sagged tiredly. “That sounds good and all, I love a good pep talk, but I don’t know how I’m going to do this.” he confessed. “Every time the dance starts my heart races and by the halfway point I can’t breathe. I just- just...nnnn.”

“Just what?” Genji prompted him. “You’re safe to talk here, Lucio. You just what?”

Lucio looked up, meeting Satya’s concerned stare. She smiled at him, nodding. “Please.” she said, “Tell me. Us. We can’t try to solve the problem if we don’t know what it is.”

Lucio tried to explain it as best as he could, not entirely sure of what happened every time. “I try to get through it, and at the beginning it feels like I can, but then… then-” the hand on his back rubbed reassuringly. “Then I can’t help but think back to how scared I was back in New York, how everything felt so wrong but I couldn’t do anything about it because of all the eyes on me, how I was a prisoner on the stage, and how I didn’t want to pass out in front of everyone, and then how I did backstage, and how I scared Satya, and the ambulance ride and I was wondering if I was gonna die, and the ER, and thinking the whole time what a failure I was, and how mad everyone was gonna be,and how mad everyone was, and how everyone saw it, and how it was replayed for days, and how they’ve just stopped talking about it but now I’m doing a show at the same place and it’s gonna come up again, and how everyone knows I’m gonna fail again in front of the world… How do you solve  _ that  _ when  _ I’m  _ the problem?”

Genji was looking between the other three, and Satya was speechlessly looking at him. They didn’t have any answers.

“That’s…” Satya said quietly after a minute. “You’ve been holding all that in all this time? Why didn’t you ever tell me, Lucio?”

“What could you have done?” he asked, laughing as he started to cry. “You’ve already got so much to deal with, how could I burden you with that too? I just thought I’d get  _ better _ .”

“Better doesn’t just happen, but a week is a very short amount of time to work through this,” Genji added, “Um, but I’m sure that we can figure something out-”

Hanzo interrupted him. “Your self-confidence has been utterly shattered, like glass.” he said flatly.

Genji glared at him. “Hanzo, that’s not necess-”

Hanzo ignored him and continued. “Every time you attempt to throw that confidence back together for the performance, it falls apart and you shatter it further. You’re drawing from what you know, and what you know failed you. If you keep trampling all over those pieces and ignoring the damage you’re going to grind the shards into useless dust under your own feet.” he said, “So find a new confidence to be your base, to use as your drive, and then you can begin rebuilding the other.”

Lucio stared at him. How did everything that he just said make all the sense and yet no sense at the same time. “And how do I do that?”

Hanzo shrugged. “I can’t tell you that.” he said simply, “You need to find that something or place or person or thought that inspires you and drives you to be your best and hold on to it as tight as you can. Once you find it, don’t let it go until you’re done. That’s what I did when I needed it.”

Blinking in disbelief, Lucio looked up at him. “Wait, you're saying that your confidence needed help too? But you’re so-”

“Our parents weren’t the nicest coaches or managers.” Hanzo told him.

“Or parents.” Genji added.

“Or parents. They liked to belittle us over things even out of our control, like Sanjay is doing,” Hanzo answered, “And there were days that I didn’t want anyone to even look at me ever again, and I had to remind myself that my brother needed me out there on that stage. It’s easy to push ourselves down into the dirt and want to lay in bed and cry, I’ve been there and I clawed our way out of it. Find that one thing that keeps you going, just one, and focus only on that so you don’t get overwhelmed. You’re not going out there for the world, you’re going out there for…”

Lucio waited for him to finish, but instead Hanzo trailed off, motioning for Lucio to speak. “...For?”

“Was kinda hoping that you would fill in the blank, but that’s okay. We’ll get there.” Hanzo said, patting him on the back and standing back up. “Let’s order some lunch in and take a break for now.”

“There’s this wonderful cafe that’s close by, they do delivery and I have the menu up on my computer. They do wraps, quesadillas, and sandwiches, flatbread and normal bread, and salad bowls and smoothies!” Satya said, helping Lucio stand and giving him a small smile, “Who wants a smoothie?”

“I’d love one!” Genji said brightly, turning to walk towards the side of the room alongside his brother. Despite how he whispered, Lucio could hear him speak to Hanzo. “I am the worst older brother.” he said.

“It’s not easy and you’re new at it.” Hanzo whispered back, slapping him affectionately on the shoulder. “You’ll get better with practice.”

“Actually, um.” Genji stopped walking, “Could you go order something for me? You know what I like. I, uh, got something I need to do.”

“I’ll pick out some ideas for you, sure.” Hanzo said, “Picking your food? I’d never hear the end of it if I was wrong. Just don’t take too long.”

Genji glanced back at Lucio. “I won’t. I’ll be just a-” he walked backwards towards Lucio, turning and jogging back his way, “Just a minute.”

He stopped alongside Lucio, who had only just started to skate towards the others, and ran a hand back through his hair.

“Hey, um, I’m so sorry-” he began to say, but Lucio cut him off.

“It’s not your fault.” Lucio assured him. “I thought I could do it. I couldn’t. What else is new?”

Genji rubbed at his arm with a hand and blew out a breath before he continued. “I don’t have the best advice, because my parents drilled it into me that I’m not replaceable and that I couldn’t let them down. Kinda the opposite of what you’re feeling, um, but, uh,” he swallowed nervously. “I don’t know if this helps, but you know how Hanzo said to take back control?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s what I did,” Genji said, explaining, “My father always called me Sparrow because I was so flighty, a useless little bird he called me. Small and insignificant, a dime a dozen unless I worked harder to stand out. No one but my brother knows; brothers now.”

Lucio looked at him. “Sparrow?” he repeated.

“Sparrow was an insult, meant to belittle me.” Genji said, “So I took his insult and I’ve made it my own. It’s mine now. He can’t use it to hurt me anymore. I took his weapon away, melted it down, and forged it into my own stronger blade. And I don’t know what you could take back, I don’t know all the details, but I thought maybe that story could help you figure out what you could try to reclaim.”

Lucio tilted his head thoughtfully. “I’ll keep it in mind,” he said. “It feels like there’s so much yet so little for me to try to take back. I’m not even sure what was mine to begin with because, sometimes, I do really feel repl-”

“You’re not replaceable. Not one bit. If you were, don’t you think they would have just… replaced you? Instead of this whole convoluted game Sanjay is playing to trap you?” Genji said, “That’s why he’s taking away your control. Keep you penned up in Vishkar prison as long as he can.”

Lucio weighed the words, rocking his head back and forth. “Maybe,” he said, “Still, Sanjay’s right. They could stick anyone under my helmet and no one would know.”

Genji placed both of his hands on Lucio’s shoulders, accidentally pushing the boy on wheels backwards, nearly taking them both down, before he quickly pulled him back and held him in place.

“ _ I  _ would know if it wasn’t you. Satya would. So would Hanzo. We would know that’s not our friend Lucio under there. And we would be sad it wasn’t, because we love you.” he said, “And you’re going to go out there and rock the show so hard. You’re gonna show the world up, Lucio. You’re gonna show them  _ all  _ you’re not replaceable. I just know it.”

The reassuring speech was nice, even if Lucio did still have his massive doubts about how the show was going to go and what his life was going to turn into after.

“I’ll do my best,” he said with a smile.

Genji pat his shoulders and then let him go. “That’s… not quite the spirit I was going for, but it’s a great start!” Then he began to walk backwards and gave Lucio some finger guns, “Now let’s go eat. We’ve been working our butts off and I’m starving.”

Lucio watched as he nearly skipped to be alongside Hanzo and Satya, who were perusing the digital menu and couldn’t help but smile at the group.

He wasn’t going this alone. Not anymore. He had two new older brothers to go along with his aunt. A cobbled together little family that gave Lucio hope. What more could he ask for?

Other than getting his own ass into gear, obviously.

\-----

They didn’t stop practicing until late that night. Hanzo and Genji didn’t try to make him perform  _ Breakdown  _ again, but they did do the individual moves from the routine one at a time, helping him perfect his form.

Since he had to perform the dance, as long as he could, they wanted to make sure that each move counted. The practice was long and hard, but it would be their only chance to really practice together and make sure that Lucio wasn’t too sore for his show.

It turned out that Genji and Hanzo had done some schedule crushing to fit time for him and his show into their lives. They had just gotten into California last night, they were heading for New York to get a room soon after, and they had to leave immediately after Genji opened Lucio’s show to get back to Japan in time for Genji’s tour to start. Both men had assured Lucio that they were going to be watching the show during their ride.

The entire time they were practicing, Lucio couldn’t let go of what Hanzo had said.

_ Find a new confidence. _

The thought had been echoing through his head for the few days afterwards. Even on his flight over to New York, the thought lingered, lurking despite the other madness going on around him, 

And now, as he crouched nervously in his hotel room’s bathroom like a goblin, phone clutched between his little goblin fingers like it was a priceless goblin treasure, he believed that he had found his answer.

Jean-Baptiste Augustin.

The man that comforted him, made him feel calm and safe. The man he wasn’t scared to be himself with, that he discovered himself with. The man that inspired him, and had such a genuinely warm and fuzzy love of music. The man who loved and understood Lucio’s music, even if he didn’t quite understand why Lucio loved that about him so much.

Jean-Baptiste Augustin was the answer.

But if Lucio were to call him and ask him to come to the show, to give Lucio that confidence, he could say no. This time, unlike the last, he was ready for Jean to tell him no. 

The man had made it clear that he didn’t like the spotlight, he just tolerated it for his love of music; the two did go hand-in-hand sometimes.

And that was all assuming that Lucio found the courage to ask. There was no way to ask Jean without giving up Lu, was there? Jean could say no and Lucio could lose him and gain nothing, shattering the only other confidence he could find in himself.

Despite what Jean had tried to tell him, this all felt very pass or fail.

He stared at the blue glowing screen in a silent panic. He knew this was the answer. He had been racking his brain and couldn’t find anything or anyone else that made him feel like being brave or that he could actually do this. It was why, to calm his nerves, he was wearing Jean’s sweatshirt, the oversized hoodie draping over his bent knees.

Satya would have been his other option, possibly, but she was tied too closely to all of this for him to pick her. He didn’t want to disappoint her, she had done so much for him. He couldn’t fail her.

But with Jean, it felt like he couldn’t fail. Baptiste was the answer, the only answer, and Lucio just had to acknowledge that. There was no one else that was quite like him to Lucio. Baptiste was not replaceable.

And neither was he.

His finger hovered over the call button, but instead he hit the back button and opened up the messages.

If Baptiste was going to say no to his request, and get angry about how much of Lucio’s life he had hidden from him, he didn’t want to  _ hear  _ him say it. Hearing it would haunt him until he died, echoing endless in his head and appearing in his nightmares when he least expected it.

Instead, he would rather see it in writing. At least then he could just delete it and move on, instead of having to hear it replaying in his head.

Carefully, slowly, debating every word that he typed, even after he started over for the third time, he sent Jean the message. The fact it was a Dear Jean letter, a French version of a Dear John letter, he realized as he reread the message, was not the slightest bit comforting.

_ Dear Jean, _

_ I’m going to be doing a show in New York City two days from now. It would absolutely mean the world to me if you were able to attend. I could leave you some backstage passes at the front gate (one for you and Olivia each, if she also wanted to come) if you were interested in attending. _

_ I’m praying that you can make it. I’m scared. Nervous. Terrified of doing this, both writing this and the show. I was told to find my confidence, and it’s you. From the moment I was asked to find my confidence, I knew: it’s always been you. You’re my confidence, and you’re what inspires me to do my best and keep going, working my butt off and sharing my new, better songs with the world. _

_ Did you hear Jump on the radio? It’s going to be played at the concert too. It was inspired by you, my Haitian and Caribbean querido. I hope you like it and that you like the pun in the chorus as much as I do. I could see you dancing to the music, having the time of your life. Sometimes I like to picture myself dancing with you too. _

_ The concert is going to be St. Patrick’s day night (if that makes sense) at the Oladele Amphitheater, from 7-9 if all goes to schedule. I can leave your name at the front gate if you can’t make it early enough for me to personally escort you back there or if you want to be more subtle? I know you don’t enjoy the spotlight. I’m sorry to be throwing all of this at you at once. _

_ I’m hoping from the bottom of my heart that you’re able and willing to come. I’m not sure how I’m going to make it through the end of the show otherwise. I want to throw up just thinking about it. I’m screaming inside and dreading it, because this is a huge moment in my career that I can’t mess up. But I can, all too much you see. I know you said life’s not pass or fail, but I think this is an exception and I’m not ready to go it alone. _

_ I hate to go all Chicago on you, but it’s true: you bring feeling to my life. You're the inspiration _

_ Please write me back, Jean. Whether or not you decide to go. I need you to write me back and tell me, either way so I can move on or relax. I won’t be mad if you can’t, I understand. Though I can understand why you would be mad with me for not telling you all of this earlier, but it never felt like there was a good time to. I didn’t want to lose it or you. If you’re mad, I forgive you and I’m sorry. _

_ You’re my moon in the night sky, lighting up the darkest of nights and guiding me to a place I can call home. I love you, Jean. Even if you can’t make it or decide that it’s all over because this is too much, I understand and want to say thank you for ever loving me. _

_ Forever your Lu _

He reread it once more, talking himself out of deleting the whole thing four times, before he made himself hit send, the long message being broken up into multiple smaller ones by the messaging app. 

Then he immediately turned the phone off, stood up, marched to bed, and shut his phone in the bedside drawer so that he couldn’t see or hear it. He slammed his head into the pillow, closed his eyes, and tried to will himself to sleep.

Jean usually texted back quickly. There was a chance that he was texting back right now. Lucio didn’t want to read it. He wasn’t ready to. So instead he hid it out of sight, trying to put it out of mind for the night.

He would check it in the morning, he told himself. There would be a message in the morning and he would have to figure out what to do from there.

Using some breathing exercises, a white noise machine, and mind-emptying meditation, he finally fell asleep about an hour later, his phone still untouched.

Little did he know, as he slept there peacefully, that his phone was going to be silent all through the night, with no reply by morning.

And that by the day of the concert, there would be not a single response from Jean-Baptiste Augustin at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos, comments, and feedback are always super appreciated!
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3
> 
> Questions, comments, or concerns? Hit me up on here or on my Twitter: https://twitter.com/KittenzCaboodle


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Chapter warning  
> None

The time for Lucio to step out on stage was fast approaching. So much time and effort had been crammed into the last few days to get the show ready for tonight. Countless companies pulling rush jobs to help set the stage, so many rehearsals to ensure that the _execution_ would be _flawless_...

Which is probably why Lucio felt like he was about to march out to the guillotine and have his head cut off, live in front of the audience in the next few minutes.

He stood backstage, frantically refreshing his messaging app, praying that Baptiste would respond before he had to go out on stage. Genji was performing now, singing his heart out and getting the audience pumped. He dominated the theater, his energy infectious, and Lucio had no idea how he was going to go out there and keep the hype going that strong.

The initial thought had been to have him backing up Genji’s performance and dancing with him, that’s why they had been teaching him his dance, but after his breakdown in the studio, Satya and Hanzo had decided that the less time having to perform like that on stage for him, the better. He was to sit this one out. Something that he was thankful for at the moment.

He knew that, despite the short timeline, his show had just about sold out. Nearly every seat had a butt in it and the voices of the audience echoed throughout the theater, cheering and singing along to Genji’s songs.

He knew from rehearsals that he only had a few minutes before Genji finished his set and he had to go on stage and perform for the world. All eyes would be on that stage, the cameras were already rolling, broadcasting the show to who knows how many other people.

It was the same as the last time he had performed. Except, somehow, it felt a hundred times worse.

He knew all too well what failure tasted like, the slimy flavor still coating his tongue, sitting thickly in his throat and threatening to choke him to death. All eyes were on him, with everyone thinking back to his last disaster of a show. How many people were watching just to see him fail in front of the world again?

And the fact that the one person, the only other place of confidence he could think of, had yet to respond wasn’t helping either.

He refreshed the app again and felt someone looking over his shoulder. He looked behind him and was greeted by Satya skimming over his messages.

“No response?” she asked him. He had told her that he texted Baptiste - it was no secret - and she had been checking in with him throughout the day.

His shoulders slumped. “Nothing.”

She hummed thoughtfully, a hint of disappointment in her tone, “Well, I’m sorry, Lucio.” she said, holding her hand out for the phone. “Give me the phone. I’ll keep an eye on it for you and await his text.”

Reluctantly, he put his cell in her hand and was given a water bottle in its place. 

“Drink, please,” she said to him, eyeing the phone one last time before she turned it off. “I want to make sure you’re hydrated.”

Lucio eyed the pile of water bottles behind him out of the corner of his eye as he slowly sipped at the bottle. “I’ve been drinking plenty,” he assured her, “Believe me, I don’t want a repeat of last time either. I also don’t want to pee myself on stage. This stupid jumpsuit hides _nothing._ ”

“That certainly wouldn’t be ideal if you did,” she agreed with a small, almost invisible smile, “I trust you, Lucio. You know yourself best.”

He took one last long sip from the bottle and then capped it, setting it aside for later. Hanzo, who was backstage with them, had been busy packing his and his brother’s things back up. As soon as Genji was off the stage, they were going to rush to the airport to catch the first plane back to Japan so Genji could begin getting ready for his own small tour.

Hanzo came over to them, bags on his shoulder, and spoke. “Any luck with hearing back from your friend, Lucio?” he asked, looking between the two of them. Lucio had told the Shimadas about Jean as well, showing them a picture of him as well, explaining to Hanzo that he had done his homework and found a new potential confidence. The only problem was that this confidence didn’t seem to want to find him any longer

Satya shook her head and answered for Lucio. “Not a word.”

“He usually texts me back every night at the very least,” Lucio added, glancing at the phone sitting in Satya’s hand. “Nothing for two days is… not normal.”

A frown crossed Hanzo’s face for a brief second, but was wiped off in a split second with a more stoic expression. “What did you say he did for a living again?”

Lucio finally looked up and met Hanzo’s stony gaze. “He works as a bartender,” he answered.

“Ah! St. Patrick’s day is a difficult day for bartenders. He probably just couldn’t figure out how to tell you he couldn’t attend because of work.” Hanzo said, patting Lucio softly on the shoulder, “But I’m sure he’s watching, from wherever he is, cheering for you from behind the bar, wishing so _desperately_ that he could be here with you.”

Lucio weighed his words. Jean was a workaholic, Olivia had said as much, and St. Patrick’s day was probably a required workday for him, so he probably couldn’t get away. It made sense, sadly. “Do you think so?” Lucio asked.

“That’s what I think.” Hanzo nodded. “He wants to be here, but he can’t. So put on a show for him. Make sure that he can feel your energy and help _him_ get through his terrible day like he has helped you get through yours in the past. Do you think you can do that, Lucio?”

Lucio knew that Hanzo was lying, or at least trying to come up with a plausible excuse for Jean’s silence beyond him ghosting Lucio. He was trying to give Lucio a small chunk of hope to keep him going and get him through the show.

It was kind of him to lie, to give Lucio one last piece of Baptiste to hold before he completely slipped through his fingers and vanished from his life. So, in turn, Lucio would be kind enough to let himself believe it. Just for tonight.

“I think I can do that,” Lucio said with a nod.

“I know you can,” Satya told him, pausing to touch her earpiece and listen in to a conversation. It must have been nothing, because she resumed talking quickly. “Hanzo, have you finished all your tasks?”

“I’ve spoken with the dancers, I’ve made sure they’re coordinated, their costumes are ready, and know their cues. We’ve practiced enough I have no doubt that everyone will be able to nail _Jump’s_ opening number. Bags are packed, we’ll be out of the way of everyone immediately.” Hanzo assured her. “I’m sorry we’re unable to stick around for the performance.”

“Don’t apologize, please. You’ve done so much and I don’t know how to repay you-”

“Just let me keep annoying you with questions about managing.” Hanzo answered, “You’ve been my lifeline through our struggles and I need that line to stay open. That’s all I need.”

“That I can do, and would have done without being asked, Hanzo… I wish you and your brother pleasant travels and the best of luck with his show.” she bowed her head thankfully, and then, straightening up, resumed talking with Lucio, “Lucio, is your hair tied back enough?”

“Yup.” he nodded. He had tied it back looser than he usually did, but it would stay out of his way no problem once he had the helmet on. He just couldn’t stand pulling his hair tightly right now, so it had been a loose loop with an elastic, just enough to keep it out of his face.

He had yet to step out on stage, but he already could feel sweat dripping down the back of his silver costume. He had chosen to wear the silver costume today for two reasons; it had green lights in the helmet, which complimented the St. Patrick's day theme, and because he preferred it to the gold one. What reason did he need beyond that?

“I’d wish you good luck, Lucio, but you don’t need luck. You’ve got all the skill you need to nail this performance, I saw it all in the rehearsals,” Hanzo told him, reaching out to shake his hand. “We’ll be watching the show from the plane. I cannot wait to see it all come together and would love to work with you more in the future. Goodbye for now, Lucio. Satya, farewell. We’ll talk later.”

Lucio shook his hand firmly. “I’d love to work with you two again,” he said, “Thanks for everything, Hanzo.”

With one last bow, Hanzo stepped out of the way, leaning against a back wall as he waited for Genji to finish his performance. He was on his last song _Free as a Bird_ , and the audience loved it, screaming and cheering as he strutted confidently across the stage. As he sang the beginning of the last chorus of his song, the audience sang along, clapping in beat with him.

_Free as a bird_

_Flying fast as an arrow_

_Your breadcrumbs don’t tempt me_

_I’m a wild sparrow_

_Free as a bird_

_Flying fast as an arrow_

_Your cages won’t hold me_

_I’m my own damn sparrow_

Lucio watched the show from the sidelines, a pit forming in his stomach. What stage presence. What a performer. It was gonna be hard to match him, but, damn, Lucio was going to have to try.

“You’ve got the two backstage passes set aside for him, right?” Lucio asked Satya, averting his eyes from the absolutely stellar production happening on stage.

“Yes. I spoke with security and they wrote down Jean’s name on the VIP list. If he’s able to get out of work and make it here, all he has to do is speak with the front gate attendant and they will escort him back here, no problem.” she assured him. “And I’ll have your phone if he texts with any questions and be able to answer him. Don’t worry about it. Focus on the show.”

“I know. I will,” he said, picking his helmet up and holding it between his hands. He recited the saying that Vishkar had pounded into his head his whole life. “No matter what happens, the show must go on. Until the curtain closes and the crowds go home, the show **_must_ **go on.”

As the words left his lips, Satya looked at him sadly, but her expression brightened as Lucio looked her way, as if she didn’t want him to see how worried she was. He didn’t have to see it. He knew. 

“You’re gonna do great,” she said, watching as he strapped his helmet into place.

“Be honest, Satya,” he said, hands fiddling with the helmet as he made sure that it was securely in place. “Do you really think so?”

“I know so.” she said decisively, “You’ve got this. Just do your best.”

He gulped. “Always do,” he replied, then skating over into position at the edge of the stage. The timing was going to be tight once the lights went off and he had to be ready.

Genji was bowing, waving goodbye to the audience and thanking them for a great time as he walked towards the edge of the stage and then off it. He paused in front of Lucio, sweat soaking his shirt and dripping down his body.

“You ready?” he asked breathlessly, swiping a hand back through his damp, green locks.

“I think? Gonna do the best I can.” Lucio said with a nod.

“That’s the spirit,” he grinned. Then, with a soft slap of his hand on Lucio’s back, he pulled back and grinned at him, white teeth sharp and bright. 

“Give me a call sometime!” he said chipperly, “Satya should have my number, or at least Hanzo’s. I’d love to talk later, maybe offer you some friendly brotherly advice or something?” he said this with a wink and a light punch onto Lucio’s arm

“Genji,” Hanzo called from across the room, finger tapping at his wrist as he silently reminded his brother of their time crunch.

“Be right over!” Genji called back. His hands rested on Lucio’s arms and he sucked in a breath. Then, in the blink of an eye, he wrapped his arms around Lucio’s shoulders, hugging him as tightly as he dared while trying to avoid soaking his silver get-up.

“You’re going to go out there and rock the show so hard. You’re gonna show them all up, Lucio.” he whispered into Lucio’s ear, his voice a touch hoarse, “Show the _world_ that Lucio is not replaceable.”

And with one last reassuring pat, Genji was walking towards the exit with Hanzo, turning back multiple times to wave goodbye. Then, the two of them were gone. It was just him and Satya now.

No, worse than that, he thought as he turned back towards the stage and got into position, waiting for his cue. In thirty seconds, it was just going to be him. Him, the stage, and the world.

On cue, the lights flicked off throughout the theater. It was pitch black, save for the squares of glow-in-the-dark tape that had been dotted on the stage, marking out the path he needed to take to reach the _X_ left in center stage. 

There was a similar path on the other side of the stage, for the Blackwatch Sound Backstagers to use when wheeling out his DJ stand. He had seen those men and women work during rehearsals, and it was incredible how quickly and efficiently they moved. It was almost as if they had never even been there, the only proof of their existence a job well done.

As he skated out to the center of the stage, it felt like time slowed down. It was probably just his racing thoughts making everything else seem slow.

Despite how much the others tried to reassure him, he couldn’t help the ache in his chest at the cold hard reality of Baptiste not showing up. Even just a quick text about how he couldn’t make it would be enough to ease the sting.

But to just disappear without a word? That was a pain like no other.

Lucio couldn't help but think about how Satya has suggested he come clean about his being Lucio, and not just Lu, to Jean. Over and over she had said that it would have to come out one day.

He had laughed at the thought, telling himself that he could happily live forever in his fantasy land of Lu. He had tried to convince himself that his two worlds would never have to collide.

But here he was, the one who had thrown them together, and he was feeling the impact of both worlds imploding at once.

It was all falling down around him. It was always going to crumble, he knew that. It always did.

Tomorrow, he would have to face what came, whether his performance was a success or not. Whether Vishkar had won or not. Whether Jean ever replied or not.

There was only so much he could control. He could lie to himself and pretend that he could make everything okay if he just worked hard enough and succeeded. 

It was what he had told himself after his parents died, using it as a motivation to reach the top for his mother and father so he didn’t let them down, and what he had been telling himself for years now.

But hard work didn't guarantee success, he had learned that recently. It was a painful lesson, but true. There were too many factors out of his control, it was all more luck than skill. He couldn't control how the news of the show would be reported, how Vishkar would respond, or how Baptiste had reacted to finding out that the man he had loved never really existed.

All he could do was his best. That still might not be enough. Despite how much he wanted to lie to himself that it would be, he didn’t know. He wondered if he ever would.

After he met Jean, he found out how much he was lying to himself. About how happy he was in his lonely castle at the top of the mountain. Realizing how it took so long to claw his way to the top, he forgot to look back and see what pieces of himself he was leaving behind.

He had decided to stop lying to himself so much, and that was when he started to like himself. For the first time in a long time, he knew what it felt like to be truly happy, how magical it was to fall in love, and feel that warm intimate embrace of belonging somewhere.

Tonight, though, he would lie one last time and tell himself that Jean was out there watching, that he was just being shy out in the crowd, that nothing between them had changed, and that, without a doubt, he could still believe in love. Just for one more night.

He stood on the X on the stage, head bowed, as he awaited the moment that the lights clicked back on. Eyes shut tight as he waited for his mic turned on, he sang a few lines under his breath, his voice barely even a whisper.

_Are you ready for the sequel?_

_Ain't you ready for the latest?_

He paused, gulping nervously before he finished hoarsely.

_In the garden of evil_

_I'm gonna be the_ **_greatest_ **

There was a click, his mic was on, and his eyes opened back up, full of uneasy determination, as the theater was filled with light once more. He now stood behind his DJ table and the dancers they had hired were now on the stage. 

Too late to run, too late to hide, the spotlight was on him now. This could very well be his only shot at proving himself. He couldn’t mess it up. He wouldn’t get another redo. Not when the world was watching.

It was time. 

**_Showtime._ **

Speakers blasted as the trademark line from **_Jump_ ** _, this beat Jamaican you jump,_ and the theater sprung to life. The Hawaiian-shirt clad dancers then moved in an energized and synchronized fluidity, making the most of their only appearance in the show. There had only been enough time for them to learn this one routine, and so they danced it to the fullest as Lucio DJ’d. He knew the routine well enough that he could mirror their movements and dance with them occasionally from behind his table, a safe and familiar space for him.

The lighting team had done a spectacular job. He had no idea how they had managed it in such a short time, but the lighting effects and synchronization that they had cranked out, and the light shows he had seen in rehearsal, were amazing. Hopefully, that would be enough to distract from any slip-ups.

As the first song came to an end, the dancers waved up the crowd’s cheers, encouraging the noise, as they ran off of the stage. The roar of the crowd's anticipation shook Oladele Amphitheater. 

**_Lucio! Lucio! Lucio!_ **

Their energetic cheering was chaotic and loud, shaking the theater and making Lucio’s heart pound in his chest every time they screamed his name. He bounced nervously on his skates, his nerves on fire, and his adrenaline was spiking. He hoped that adrenaline was enough to get him through the show.

 **_“Hello, NEW YOOOORK!_ ** ” he finally called out to the crowd, thankful his voice still worked and somehow held more confidence than he ever had. “ **_ARE! YOU! REAAAAADY?!_ **”

He prayed that they were because he sure as hell wasn’t.

\--------------

Satya Vaswani watched the show opening nervously from offstage, praying that all went well. She was fairly certain that as long as the opening was clean, the rest of the show would go smoothly… At least until the final song, _Breakdown._ That one she wasn’t sure about.

But Lucio was a stellar performer. Once he found his groove, he would be able to get through the show. Maybe, if they were lucky, he would even begin to have some fun out there.

They had rehearsed numerous times, she knew exactly what to expect. Lucio had relaxed the more time they went over the show, but he was still tenser than she liked. She couldn’t blame him for that.

He had confessed to her yesterday that he had texted Jean the day before and asked him and Olivia to come to the show as his special guests. He had shown her the text he sent and explained that when he was with Jean he felt that confidence he was missing, the confidence that Hanzo had told him to find.

He had put himself out there and she knew that, to him, receiving no response was the only response that he needed to know how Jean-Baptiste felt. In his mind, it was all over. He wasn’t really buying the lies that she and the Shimadas had been feeding him over the last two days, trying to help him make it through the show.

Her hand clenched tightly around Lucio’s phone, and she eyed her own phone that sat heavily in her pocket. She had been wanting to text Oliva and ask what was going on on her end. Had she found anything else on Vishkar? Did she know what Jean was thinking about the text Lucio sent?

But Olivia had been clear about cutting off contact while she looked into Vishkar. She didn’t want Lucio or Satya getting caught in the crossfire if anything was traced back to her. Satya had deleted her number, as instructed, and she assumed Olivia had done the same. 

Lucio had entertained the thought of texting Olivia and asking about Jean, but he had shut that idea down before Satya had to, not wanting to involve her and get her caught in the middle if Jean was gone.

She had only talked to Jean-Baptiste a handful of times, but she had seen firsthand how happy he and Lucio made each other, how much they seemed to love each other. Lucio didn’t open up to people, Satya being one of the only exceptions. He was friendly, but he didn’t like getting to know people and letting them know him because he figured that they would leave him behind, like his parents had done, like his Godmother had, like most people in Lucio’s rough life had. Like Jean had seemed to.

She didn’t understand the silence on his end. She didn't think she ever would. They had seemed so in love, and she didn’t know which was worse: them actually both being in love with each other, or Jean just pretending to be for some reason.

He had seemed so sincere, and what would he have even gotten out of it if that had been the case? A blender? God, she hoped he hadn’t tricked Lucio into a relationship for a fucking blender. Olivia had said that they were in love… and she hadn’t betrayed Satya yet. Maybe it was for the best if she assumed this all was some kind of miscommunication between Lucio and Jean? What other choice did she have?

All Satya could do was hope that this was all going to work out somehow. She had done everything she could, with plenty of assistance from Olivia, her foster father, and the Shimada brothers. It was out of her hands now. She had gotten the show up and running and now all she could do was watch from the sidelines.

_….zzzrt currently containing two hooligans that attempted to steal a cashbox from the south entrance merch stall in backroom 4 sector B until authorities arrive….brk...Repeat, BR4B, backroom 4 sector B. Over._

Her radio crackled to life as the security team talked to each other. Her line was connected to security and the backstage crew, so she could listen in on their conversations and be of assistance, or at least aware, in case of crisis.

 _That_ was all she could do. Work out of sight to make sure that everything in sight was fit to be seen. She could offer long-range reassurances to Lucio, but that was it. She hoped sincerely that he could make it on his own. The audience was staring, the cameras were rolling, and all eyes were on him now.

Whether he was ready or not, the show was now playing for all the world to see.

\------------------

Baptiste lay sprawled across Olivia’s couch, arm tossed over his eyes as he lightly napped. It was an odd and useless kind of sleep where he would twitch himself awake every time he began to drift off, and it was more exhausting than restful. More of a “nope” than a nap really.

So he gave up and slowly sat up, rubbed at his eyes, finding it unfair that there was eye discharge aka sleep in the corners of his eyes when he had barely slept.

The last two days had been restless for him as a whole, guilt sitting heavily in his stomach and weighing him down. He had made a mistake, a terrible one, and he knew that he couldn’t fix it. Not alone.

He stood and quietly made his way over to Olivia’s small kitchen, eyeing the counter where his phone lay. He stared at it, hands in his pockets, shifting from foot to foot uneasily.

“Back away from the phone, Jean-Baptiste Augustin.” Olivia called over from her desk, eyes locked onto her monitor, “Slowly.”

He looked over at her tiredly. “How much longer?” he asked her.

“Soon.” she promised, fingers dancing across her keyboard, “Sit down. Don’t touch it. You’ve done enough already, Baptiste. Sit.”

Reluctantly, he returned to the couch and fell onto the cushions. He slouched over the arm of the couch, resting his head on his crossed arms as he stared at her impatiently with sad, puppy dog eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she told him, still not looking his way. “There’s no rushing this, Bap, I’m sorry-”

“It’s been two days now.” he said with a sigh, “How is that not long enough yet? It’s been too long already.”

Olivia scooted her chair back away from the desk and finally turned to look at him. She looked tired. She had been working on something since Jean had arrived two days ago, something she had been working on nonstop for a few weeks now, and she refused to let him see what it was, alt-tabbing whenever he dared approach her with a drink for her in hand, citing a confidentiality agreement she had taken. 

She was dressed in casual lounge clothes, sweats and a tanktop, and she hadn’t changed the last two days at least. They had barely hung out for the last few weeks, the exception being the times when Jean dropped by with homemade dinner for her, partially to keep her company while they ate, her at the computer and him at the counter, and partially to make sure she was eating. 

There were only a handful of times where Jean had seen her so caught up in her work, to the point of needing to be reminded to eat and drink. She even had timers set to remind her to go to the bathroom, to shower, and to get up and stretch. She must be working on quite a freelance job.

He wasn’t one to talk about clothes, though. He would still be in his work uniform if she hadn’t ordered him to go home and change yesterday morning, not that it really mattered. All he was doing was moping around her apartment, and he could do that in his uniform or in dark jeans and a bright orange Hawaiin shirt, covered in red and white flowers. It didn’t matter which. He was just that talented.

Head resting heavily in her hand, she frowned at him. “Don’t give me that look,” she told him.

“I’m not trying to, I’m- It’s-” he sighed again, sagging further, speaking over the quiet alarm that began going off on Olivia’s phone. “I’m just worried. I _don’t_ like this.”

She smirked knowingly, “I can tell,” she said, looking him up and down as she stood for the fourth time today, silencing her phone’s alarm “But you gotta try to relax. Just a liiiiiittle bit?”

“You know I’m not going to. I can’t.” he said, pushing himself upright and falling against the back couch cushions, “Not until I _know_ he’s okay and I can’t do that until-”

“You use your phone. I get that.” she said understandingly, as she began to stretch her wrists, “But in case you forgot, water and electricity don't play nice with each other, Mr. I-Dropped-My-Phone-In-A-Bucket-Of-Mop-Water. I turn it on too soon, it’s fried and gone, just like that, assuming it can still be saved.”

He frowned at the reminder of his failure. “I told you he had a black eye, right?” he said sadly.

“Yes, while you were beating the stuffing out of a punching bag with your huggable arms,” she said patiently, “I know, Jean. I _know._ And if you remembered his number because I don’t have it anymore, I would dare to let you, Great Destroyer of Phones, use my phone to-”

“I told you, I don’t know it. He put his number in for me, and I never needed it; I just used the contacts page,” he said, teeth grinding in frustration, “How did _you_ lose his number?”

“I had to use a back-up save state prior to having his number to fix my phone after it glitched. It lost everything that happened after that backup, luckily I emailed most of the pictures to myself,” she said, lying to an unknowing Baptiste. 

She had deleted Lucio’s number, lied about her Talkalalka account getting temporarily banned and the website blacklisting her IP address until the ban was over, and wouldn’t contact Lucio in any way, as she had told Satya she would, but she couldn’t explain that to Jean without involving him in _Operation Vish-kabob_. She was lying to keep him safe. It was for the best, for everyone, that she did.

“It’s been two days. How much more time does it need to dry?” he asked, falling back over onto the couch’s seat cushions, “I don’t like not being able to contact him or him being able to contact me. I swear it vibrated like he texted, that’s why I pulled it out of my pocket in the first place. What if something happens? What if something happen _ **e**_ ** _d_ **? What if he needs me and I’m not there? What if he thinks I’m ignoring him? I always text him goodnight or good morning and now I haven’t for two days. What if he thinks I’m angry with him? I’m not. I’m just angry at myself for being a clumsy moron who has destroyed our only means of communication and has possibly ruined one of the two greatest relationships I’ve ever had in my life. I-...”

He stared up at Olivia’s ceiling and tried his best not to cry. “I- I’ve lost him, haven’t I? He’s gone.” he said, “I was lucky enough to be able to get him back once in my life. The universe won’t be that kind twice. _Salopri_ , Jean-Baptiste. _Salopri..._ ”

Olivia had stood now, and walked over next to the couch. She stood, staring at him, saying nothing as she stretched her stiff body, arms reaching upwards. Then she continued to walk on by without a word.

Jean threw his arm back over his eyes, trying a deep breathing technique to calm down. He was tired though, not having slept well over the last two nights as he worried what could have possibly been in those text messages, assuming there had actually been some and not a case of Phantom Vibration Syndrome that had caused him to pull his phone of his pocket and let it slip out of his stupid hand and into his stupid mop bucket.

There were three thousand miles between them. Lu obviously couldn’t expect him to be able to do anything for him, not really, right?…

At least that was what he had been telling himself, in a last-ditch effort to reassure himself that he hadn’t just shortcircuited the best romantic relationship he had had in years, with someone he considered his soulmate.

But who was he kidding? He had wanted to make sure that he kept a line open for Lu, to be there for him at a moment’s notice. Instead he had cut that cord in two with a clean snip of his useless fingers. Until he was sure that Olivia could somehow fix this mess for him, and that he could hear Lu’s sweet, gentle, beautiful voice again, he wasn’t going to relax. He couldn’t. He wasn’t even sure why he was still trying to.

As he struggled poorly through a meditation technique, there was the sound of scratching in the walls.

“Not now, Compaq. Dance later,” he called out to the unseen mouse, “I am busy having a breakdown.” The scratching immediately stopped. “ _Mèsi_.”

“But, Jean, how will he ever get to live out his dream of Mouse Broadway if he can’t practice?” Olivia called from the kitchen.

“What are dreams but fantasies we let ourselves indulge in, choosing to ignore how finite and limited they really are in cold, harsh reality?” he called over from the couch, arm still flopped dramatically over his face. “Dreams don’t exist, and if they do they’re nothing but sand that we can’t stop from slipping through our useless _fingers!”_

“Wow. That’s sad and you’re depressing me, Bap-tears.” she said flatly, “Did you bring your phone’s charging cord with you?”

“ _Oui._ In my backpack-” he answered before he realized what she was asking. As the question hit him properly, he shot upright, arms now by his sides and he looked her way.

She stood in the kitchen, examining the pieces of his phone thoroughly, holding it up to the light as she looked over all sides of it.

"Are you going to try to turn it on?" he asked as excited as he was worried.

"Yeah, after I take a quick peek at the inside of everything." she said, picking up another piece of the phone, "if everything is completely dry then I might as well put it back together and _try_ it."

He leaned forward, wanting to see her turn it on for himself but wisely stay put. _Great Destroyer of Phones_ was a fitting nickname. He had killed three in three years, between the accident one night at the club - having gotten caught in an impromptu mosh pit on Talon’s Halloween night two years back and his phone getting trampled by a posse of inflatable T-Rex costume wearers before security broke it all up, a terrifying experience Olivia wouldn’t let him live down - the infamous failed Horchata incident from last summer that broke his blender, and now the bucket of water, not counting the prior cell casualties in his life. 

"Really? We’re- You’re gonna try it?" he asked nervously, "You really mean it?"

"Yep. Might as well give it a look and see if it's ready," She put one piece down and picked up another. "I’m _finally_ **_done_** with my project, sent it off for, uh,… review, and the way you're talking you're reminding me of college-age-Bap who would study days for his nursing test and have a breakdown where he begins to trying to convince himself he was doomed, was going to look stupid, and that he might as well cut his losses and go live as a mountain goat and let himself eventually be devoured by wolves because that was somehow the better option, all within a 5-minute span at 3 in the morning until I made you take a nap and…-"

She paused, checking the time on her phone.

"-You're having a 3am breakdown at…8pm." She looked up at him. "You're scaring me, Jean. I can’t stand to watch you fall apart for much longer, and your phone can’t get much drier, so let’s go ahead and see if I try to fix it or not."

She carefully began putting his phone back together, checking over each piece and neatly slotting it back into place. It was why Jean had come straight over to Olivia’s after work, closing the place down as quickly as he could after the phone had slipped from his hand and fallen into the dirty mop water. 

She had taken apart the phone, recleaned it with a damp cloth, to wipe away the chemicals and prevent rusting she had said, and then begun taking care of each piece with the finesse and precision of a surgeon, laying them out to dry. She was a technological genius and if she couldn’t fix his phone, no one could.

Finally, his phone was back in one piece. He held his breath as he watched her hit the power button.

Her expression didn't change. "Hmmm." She hummed in annoyance. That wasn't a good sound. "Give me your cord. Maybe the battery ran out of juice."

He sprung up from the couch and went to his backpack, not rushing because he didn’t want his idiotic self to risk breaking anything else, pulling the cord out and walking it over to Olivia, handing it to her over the counter. She examined the charging port once more before she plugged it in. 

Then they waited. No one said a word as they watched the dark phone sit on the counter, hoping it was charging back to life. Baptiste stayed on the opposite side of the counter from Olivia and his phone, as if the barrier between him and it could fix anything now.

A few minutes later, Olivia picked up the phone. Her finger pressed down on the power button once more, holding it down for thirty tense seconds. Then she stared expressionlessly at the screen.

"Oh dear." She said. Jean's heart leaped into his throat.

"Oh dear?" He repeated quietly, eyes beginning to sting with forming tears.

"Oh dear," she said, turning around the phone and showing him his glowing phone, complete with a familiar lock-screen photo of him and Olivia at the boardwalk last summer. "It looks like you owe me two weeks worth of cookiewiches and three frappes."

"Absolutely, yes, of course. All the cookiewiches." He rambled, quickly wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, watching as she turned the phone back around and unlocked it for him.

He watched her with wide eyes as she looked at his phone’s screen. "Did I miss anything?" he asked hesitantly, wide eyes darting between her and the phone.

"You're popular, Bap." She commented idly, dragging down the notification window and reading through it. "Seven calls from The Echo, six texts from the Echo, a text from Papa Rialto's pizza about a sale that's now over, a text from the Black Forest Taphouse about a sale that’s still on, the small decorative, handmade orb you ordered for the Shambali fundraiser last week, made personally by a monk named Zenyatta apparently, shipped yesterday, and The Critter Bastion Animal Rescue thanked you for donating to their animal drive and sent you a picture of the bird you sponsored, a cute little yellow dude named Ganymede, poor thing, and….”

“...And?” Baptiste prompted, feeling like he was about to implode from the panic and guilt destroying him from the inside out. “And?”

Olivia scrolled the notifications up so she could see the last one. “And… you got a text from Lu," she said, looking up at him.

Heart pounding in his ears, Jean reached cautiously for the phone. Then stopped and pulled his hand away.

"Can you read the text from Lu for me?" He asked, immediately changing his mind. "No, let me read it."

As she began to hand him the phone, he shook his head and pulled his hand back once more. "No, wait, I cannot read it. What if he's angry with me?" he worried. "You read it for me. But don't tell me what it says. But do. But don't. Maybe we do charades…?"

While he was busy going back and forth, Olivia had opted to ignore him and open his messaging app and began reading.

Her eyes widened and a small frown crossed her lips. "Jean, you need to read this." She said, her face growing serious enough to bring Jean-Baptiste back to his senses. 

At the sound of her concerned tone, he snapped into ER nurse mode, and an immediate calm washed over him as he focused, ready to see what steps he needed to take to rectify his mistakes and ensure that everything went smoothly for the patient, his relationship with Lu.

Without another word, she held the phone out to him. He took it without a second thought, holding the mostly-dead phone carefully and as tightly as he dared.

He looked at the phone's screen and scrolled up to the top of the long message Lu had sent. Then he began to read, taking his time and not rushing, making sure that he missed nothing.

 _Aa show in New York City two days from now...Terrified of doing this, both writing this and the show...You’re my confidence...Sometimes I like to picture myself dancing with you too...I know you said life’s not pass or fail, but I think this is an exception and I’m not ready to go it alone...I won’t be mad if you can’t, I understand. Though I can understand why you would be mad with me... If you’re mad, I forgive you and I’m sorry...._ What?

 _Even if you can’t make it or decide that it’s all over because this is too much, I understand and want to say thank you for ever loving me.  
_ _  
__Forever your Lu._

The beginning was a request. The middle was about his work and about wanting Jean there but… Why did the end of his message sound like an apology and a goodbye? He read it once more, but couldn’t shake off that feeling that this letter read like Lu wasn’t planning a follow-up. Like this was it.

Once he had finished reading and rereading the long message, Jean looked up at Olivia, confused. "Is he breaking up with me?" he asked quietly.

She tilted her head in thought. "I think he's thinking you're going to break up with him."

"Why would I ever-?" His words trailed off as he reread the message. As his eyes scanned over the words once more, something else finally hit him.

"He's in New York City." He said quietly, looking up at Olivia with wide eyes. "He's _in_ New York City! Right now! And he wants me to go to the Amphitheater to see him on, ah,… today. Over an hour ago... Oh no."

"There's still time," Olivia said, checking the time on her phone. "It’s only a quarter after 8.” 

“And I don’t need to go to work until 10 because of our late St. Patrick’s day hours.” Jean helpfully added.

She ignored him and continued. “We can book it over to the theater and make it before the show’s over and try to catch him. Grab whatever you need, I’m gonna put on a shirt and book a ride there. Move."

Both of them began rushing around the apartment at the same time. Olivia ran back to her room to put on some clothes. Jean pulled his wallet out of his backpack, stuffed in his pocket along with his phone.

He was hopping around as he quickly pulled on his sneakers. Olivia came flying out of her bedroom with a tight sleeveless top under her purple bomber jacket, with low ankle boots on her feet.

Without another word, they ran out of her apartment and down to the street where they waited for the car that Olivia had called.

"Red four-door hatchback." She said, peering up and down the road. "Should be coming any minute now… there!"

As the car slowly began to pull up to the curb, Jean's phone rang. He glanced at the screen and saw that The Echo Lounge was calling him.

“Who is it?” Olivia asked as she opened the car’s door.

“Work,” he answered

“Don’t answer it.” she said. Jean tried to swipe to deny the call, but his phone decided that he was trying to answer it. This was probably revenge for dropping it in a mop bucket.

“Augustin?” his boss’s voice came through the speaker, and Olivia’s annoyed stare cut through his soul, “It’s about time you answered. Been trying to get a hold of you all day.”

“What’s…” he began reluctantly, turning away from Olivia’s motioning for him to hang up. “What’s going on?”

“Claudia’s called in sick, so get your ass over here ASAP.” his boss said, “We’re getting slammed by the St. Patty’s day crowd and we could use an extra set of hands at the bar.”

Despite how he knew that his boss couldn’t see him, he still shook his head as he answered. “I’m sorry, I can’t-”

“I’m not asking, Augustin.” his boss said. “There are only a few days that are non-negotiable and require open availability. St. Patrick’s is one of them.”

“I’m busy-”

“I would hate to have to fire you over something like this, Augustin. You’re a hard worker, but reliability is a must-have if you want to keep working here…”

His boss’s voice trailed off and Jean stared at the phone. The implication was clear; if he didn’t head straight to work right now, he was going to be fired.

But as he looked between the phone and Olivia, he began to realize that his job - the job that he had done perfectly, had prided himself with, had never been late for, and been a model employee for - considered him disposable.

He was being forced to decide between the person that he prayed still loved him, that he could never replace, and a job that considered him replaceable. 

Disposable was no way to live. There was no choice here. There was only one answer.

"I understand." he began.

"Good, see you in-"

“I’ll be in the day after tomorrow, if I can, to clean out my locker and sign the termination papers,” he answered, “Thank you for giving me a chance to work at The Echo Lounge, I enjoyed it while it lasted. I wish we could have parted on more amicable terms.”

“Wait-”

“Please have my final paycheck and my portion of the week's tips ready for me by then, as I know you will.” he finished, “Reliability is a must-have at The Echo Lounge after all. Goodbye.”

He then hung up and carefully slipped his phone into his pocket. Looking up, he met Olivia’s wide-eyed stare.

“Did Jean-Baptiste Augustin just quit his job?” she asked, a hand on her chest like a startled southern belle.

“No, I-” What had just transpired finally hit him. His own eyes widened and his jaw went slack for a moment before he repeated in disbelief, “I just quit my job.”

“Never thought I'd live to see the day, you workaholic.” she teased, reaching out and grabbing his wrist. “I’m proud of you. Went out with some sass, Bap.”

“I just quit my job.” he repeated, a small smile starting to grow on his face, “I just- yes. Yes. I-..I’m gonna live a carte blanche life and-”

She cut him off, tugging him towards the car. “You can congratulate yourself later, Mr. Ex-ER-Nurse, and my dad and I will give you good references,” she assured him, pulling him towards the waiting car and shoving him into the backseat, then climbing in behind him and shutting the door, “Now come on, Jean-Baptiste, we’ve got a concert to crash.”

\----------

There was one piece of advice that Satya had given Lucio, since his first performance, that he always kept in mind when he was on stage.

“ _Smile_ ,” she had said, explaining further when he had pointed out his mask, “ _Even if you don’t feel like it, even if you want to cry or scream,_ _smile. It tricks the brain and can help improve one’s mood over time which in turn translates to a better show. The audience can tell when you’re not feeling your best, so trick yourself and them and smile.”_

So he did. It was a tense grimace at first, teeth bared in fear and anger, but as the show went on it softened. He let himself enjoy the music and feel the rhythm of his favorite pieces. He followed Jean’s method and tried to pretend that no one else was there. Smiling was actually kind of helping.

At first, it worked like a charm. No one seemed to notice how it felt like he was dying inside. But as the show went on he found that he didn’t mind the crowd. They were hopping up and down to the music, and their energy helped pump up his own. 

So far the show had gone off without a hitch. The smooth sailing helped lessen his anxiety and, much to his surprise, he found himself starting to have… 

Fun.

His smile became genuine and he found that groove that he had thought he lost. His attempts to hype the crowd grew more genuine, and was met with loud cheers every time. He felt lighter on his feet than he had in months on stage and started rocking back and forth to the music as he DJ’d.

He had found some kind of confidence on his own, though he wasn’t sure where from. He hadn’t needed Jean to find some confidence, he told himself, he had done it on his own. 

All he hoped was that this wasn’t the flimsy sort of confidence that Hanzo had been warning him about and that it was enough for him to make it through the whole show. It had to be.

Jean wasn’t coming, he had accepted that. Maybe it wasn’t the worst thing that he hadn’t. Because of his absence, Lucio had found that he was still able to hold his own and stand on his own two feet, no hand-holding needed. He was enough.

He just hoped that his own enough was actually enough to make it through the show. 

_Breakdown_ was a different beast than the rest of the show. It was the last leg of this long race, but instead of skating on asphalt, the floor would now be lava. 

That was the only moment he feared, the one time it would really be sink or swim now that the rest of the show seemed to be progressing smoothly.

He looked up at the night sky, out the top of the open-air stadium. It was hard to see through both the bright stage lights and the tinted-lenses in his helmet, but some of the stars shone brightly enough to catch a glimpse of.

Lucio hoped Jean was doing well, wherever he was. He hoped that he was having a good time somewhere on this fine New York City night. He didn’t relax near enough. Too worried about others to. Who knows? Maybe the reason that he hadn’t shown up was because he had decided to put himself first for once. Lucio would be okay with that.

He pictured the last time that they had video-chatted, the time they were eating not the time with the black eye. That wasn’t as nice a time.

That night was the one that he would hold close. The one that he would try to remember Jean by. Picturing his beautiful smiling face, the affection that had been in his eyes, the love in his voice… everything he could try to remember about Baptiste. 

Because it seemed unlikely that he was ever going to see him again. 

There was no way he could be angry about it. He had lied, hidden too much for too long, and lost him. Lucio only had himself to blame.

That one night would be the time he would remember in his heart. He still loved Jean, but after tonight, it might be for the best for him to consider finding a way to move on.

But for tonight, he would lie to himself and pretend he didn’t have to. Just for tonight. Just for a few hours more, he would let himself have some hope, no matter how fake it felt, no matter that it was so fake it might as well not even exist.

He finished his current song and stared down at his DJ stand, fingers gearing up to twist the knobs and play the next song. 

In the brief moment he had to think for himself before he began the next set, he said one last silent prayer to whoever was listening.

 _Please let Jean be safe, relaxed, unhurt, and happy, wherever he is. He’s earned it. Please,_ ** _please_** _, just_ _let him have a happy life. That’s all I ask._

Then he blinked back forming tears and returned to concentrating on the show. He began to play the next song. 

As the first few notes played, he looked at the crowd. He wanted to cry, he wanted to scream, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not here, not now, not until he was alone. 

Here, trapped on stage, in front of a crowd, performing for the world, there was only one thing that he, the burning-out star of the show, _could_ do.

He smiled.

\----

Baptiste had been staring out the car window, watching as the Amphitheater grew larger as they got closer. He had debated composing a text to reply to Lu with, but between the late time and his racing thoughts, forming a coherent sentence seemed impossible. He was so distracted, thoughts ping-ponging between Lu and the potentials of all that he could do now that he had quit his bartending job, it came as a surprise when the car stopped moving.

Looking ahead, he saw the problem a block up the street. There was an accident in the middle of the road, with a car's front and another's back slammed against each other.

The two drivers were alright, and now arguing with each other and the police officer on the scene. Pieces of metal and plastic littered the road, and the intersection was at a standstill. There was no one getting through.

Their driver relaxed back into his seat, resigning himself to an unavoidable wait. A wait that Jean didn't have time for.

"How much is the ride?" He asked, speaking to both Olivia and the driver, whoever would give him an answer.

Olivia glanced at the app. "Twenty-four bucks." She told him.

He pulled out his wallet and grabbed a ten-dollar bill and a twenty. Then he handed the money to Olivia. “Here. Use that to pay the driver,” he said, shoving his wallet back into his pocket and unlocking the door. “I’ll meet you there.”

She looked at the money in her hand and then back up at him. “Wait, wait. Are you going to try to make it on foot?”

He motioned towards the wreck. “This isn’t going to get cleared up in time. On foot is my only option,” he told her, opening up the door and stepping out into the traffic jam. “I don’t know if I can make it on time, I’m probably going to fail him, but I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do anything I could to _try_ and _-”_

Olivia shoved the money up front, handing it to the driver. “Consider the ride completed. Keep the change.” she unbuckled her seatbelt and scooted out of the car after Jean. “Let’s go.”

He paused, ignoring the cacophony of honking horns around them. “I’m not asking you to make this run with me, Livvy.”

She smiled at him as she pushed herself out of the car, straightening her clothes after her feet hit the asphalt. “You don’t have to.” she told him, shutting the car door behind her. “Let’s go.”

The two of them sprinted down the long New York blocks, racing past other people on the streets. There were signs littered on the way that pointed the way to the theater, signs that Jean barely read and only glanced at to make sure they were heading the right way.

The music grew louder as they neared the open-air theater. Looking up at the massive building as they approached, lights lit up the night sky. Baptiste was focused on his heart beating in his ears, panicking as he and Olivia sprinted up to the amphitheater, but as they stopped to catch their breath outside the west entrance, he heard something.

He recognized the song playing. _Synthphony._ One of his favorites of DJ Lucio’s songs.

As he listened to the melodic tune, and looked around at the ticketless fans who stood outside and also listened to faint tracks, his eyes landed on the massive poster hung on the outside of the theater that announced the DJ’s show. 

Oh, that’s right. He had remembered reading about DJ Lucio’s concert but immediately dismissed it because he would have had to be at work tonight and couldn’t attend even if he wanted to.

But now? Standing outside the giant theater, listening to one of his favorite songs play over booming speakers, every bit of that article he read came back to him. He couldn’t believe he was here. If it weren’t for Lu-

Then, remembering Lu’s text, it hit him. St. Patrick’s day concert? Oladele Amphitheater? _Jump?_

Oh.

_Oh._

“Lu works for the DJ Lucio,” he blabbered, wheeling around to face Olivia, hand on his temple. “He works as a songwriter, he told me that one time, and he said in his text that he wrote _Jump -_ I hope he didn’t work on the second album we talked about that one and I was not kind- and he’s here now while DJ Lucio is here which means that he-”

Olivia was giving him a tired, withering look and that gave him pause.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked her hesitantly, hand slowly falling to his side.

She shook her head as she responded. “I’m just watching some gears turn uselessly. It’s actually impressive. Don’t mind me.” she told him with a quick shrug. He knit his brows in confusion and opened his mouth to ask for clarification before she interrupted him again. “The ticket booth is closed, but there’s a guard over there. Let’s go see if he can get you in.”

Whatever question he had been about to ask immediately left his mind as his focus returned to the task at hand. He spun around and his eyes locked onto the security guard standing by the west entrances, thumbs hooked into his belt as he kept an eye on the outside of the theater.

Baptiste and Olivia approached the guard, with Baptiste’s phone and ID already in hand so that he didn’t have to take the risk of pulling anything out of his pocket in front of the guard, who raised his eyebrows as they stepped up to him.

"Sorry, bud, you just missed the luau." The guard teased as Baptiste approached him. "You two need some help?"

“Yes, um, excuse me, sir,” Jean began, “I was told that there were backstage passes set aside for me and my friend Olivia-”

The guard laughed. “As if I hadn’t heard that story fifty-two times today.”

Jean smiled and chuckled with him nervously, the pressure of time ticking by making it difficult to walk the fine line of politeness and hurriedness. “My friend Lu texted me about it-” Jean explained. He turned his phone on and tapped the messaging app, eyeing the red battery bar, and held it out to the guard.

“Lou?” the man repeated, indulging Jean and looking at the screen. He only looked at it for a second before he leaned back. “Phone’s dead, buddy.”

Jean pulled his phone back and glared at the black screen, eye twitching in frustration. If his phone was trying to get back at him for dropping it in a bucket of water, it was going above and beyond to screw him over. Surely they were even by now?

“My name is Jean-Baptiste Augustin,” he said desperately, holding up his ID for the guard to read, “He said that I needed to speak to someone at the front gate and that they would know-”

The guard tilted his head as he held up a finger, silently shushing Jean. “Let me radio the boys in the back. One of them will have the list,” he continued, pulling his walkie-talkie off of his belt and clicking it on. “West Side Story here, anyone have the VIP list available for a name check? Over.”

There was a garbled voice on the other end that Jean didn’t quite understand, but the guard heard fine. “Listen, I know there’s like twenty minutes left in the show, but I got someone who says that- I know- He had a text- no, his phone died- I know that’s convenient- He’s convinced enough to give me his name. You got the list? Alright, alright- John Batiste Awgoostin…”

There was the staticky sound of someone flipping through papers and then a response.

“No one by that name?” the guard asked, “You have a Jean Baptist Augustine as the only unclaimed backstager? Hmmm...”

Jean’s eye twitched again as he heard his name butchered and misspelled enough to turn his Haitian Creole name into one that sounded like a 1920s Hollywood starlet’s name. Was it misspelled? Or could these people just not read?

The guard clicked off his walkie-talkie. “Your name’s not on the list-”

Olivia cut in. “Listen, uh-” she leaned in to read the man’s name tag, “Saleh. I’m Olivia Colomar, my dad is Gabriel Reyes, gives you boys a lot of business…” Olivia paused, giving that information a chance to sink in, “We need to get backstage. Now.”

Jean looked at her with wide eyes. Olivia never played the family card. She never liked the special treatment that came with having a parent that worked so high up in the industry. The last time she had pulled this was…

Was…

Never. She never did this. She was getting as desperate as he was.

The man raised an eyebrow at her. “What I _was going_ to say was that I’ll escort you backstage and set you up in a room real quick so we can get this whole mess sorted out.” he finished, “Only people whose names are on the list get allowed backstage, no matter who you’re related to, that’s the Helix way, but the name on that list is too much of a coincidence to let slide without further examination. We’ll see if we can rustle up someone here who knows your Lou or can vouch for you. Follow me, please. No funny business, please. Today’s already been quite a headache.”

The two of them followed the guard inside the theater after he radioed for coverage. Jean barely paid attention to the guard’s impromptu tour of the backstage area, eyes wide and darting, searching around for Lu, just wanting to catch a glimpse of him and see that he was okay.

So it was frustrating when they were taken to a backroom and told to wait. The guard shut the door behind him, locking them in from the sounds of things, while he began trying to find someone that knew what was going on or that could take over the situation for him.

The white room was only filled with empty boxes, serving as out-of-the-way storage. That’s where they were stuck now. Out-of-the-way. So close to Lu, but so, so, **_so_** far.

He sat down on an empty crate and dropped his head into his hands. They had come this far, but it seemed like the road had stopped here. They had - what? - less than fifteen minutes until the show was over and everyone was leaving and his last chance was gone.

How was he supposed to explain to Lu that he had tried, but he had gotten locked in a backroom, and forgotten about, and left to die? Sure, that part hadn’t happened yet, but considering that he had let down one of the most important people in his life through his own incompetence, it might not be the worst thing to come to fruition.

They waited for a few minutes in nervous silence, but no one came back for them. Time ticked away as Baptiste's last bit of hope began to fade. They had come so far, but failed in the end. He was going to let Lu down, and the way he had been written about how important this event was to him there would be no coming back from this.

“What now?” Olivia asked him, glancing between him and the door. “Is anyone ever going to come back or-”

Baptiste shook his head before he spoke. “What now?” he repeated, defeated, “There’s nothing we can do.”

Olivia’s face softened as she looked at him. “Jean-”

“The first big thing he’s asked of me, the first important thing he wants me for, in my own _goddamn city_ , and I failed him.” Jean slouched forward, arms resting on his knees as he bowed his head. “How could he ever forgive me?-”

Olivia stepped close and placed her hands on his shoulders as she crouched into his view. “No, Bap, we still got time. Don’t give up, not yet.” she tried to assure him, “What would Lu think if he heard you talking like this?”

Jean looked up tiredly at her, “He-”

Her question reminded her of a conversation he and Lu had had once, the one on their first night together after Lu had a small panic attack.

“ _Life’s not all pass or fail, Lu._ ” Jean had told him, “ _Sometimes it’s enough to be just okay. To do something badly. To do something later. To do just enough. To know that you are enough.”_

Life’s not pass or fail, he thought as he slowly stood back up, but that didn’t mean he had done enough yet. He had to keep trying until the clock ran out and he had no options left. He still had time to try.

“There’s got to be something else I can do.” he murmured, looking around the room, but all he saw were empty crates and boxes. “I haven’t done enough.”

“Could try to break down the door… It looks flimsy...” Olivia offered, causing Jean’s head to whip her way. “We’ve got five minutes before the show’s over, Jean. You wanna sit here and wait or do you **_try_ ** _?”_

He turned around to face the door, swallowing thickly. It didn’t look super sturdy, she was right. His moral compass was spinning like it was at the north pole; breaking down the door would probably get him in a lot of trouble but wouldn’t letting down Lu and failing him be worse? At least it would be personally to him. Structural damage was still definitely frowned upon in most societies.

“You know, if you actually managed to break it down, I’d cover for you,” she promised him, “Tell them I’m the one that broke it down, or that I kicked your ass and sent you flying through it, or that you were just leaning against it and it broke, it does look really flimsy...”

“What if it doesn’t work?” he asked nervously, “What if it does? What if they don’t believe you?”

“If worse comes to worst, they better hope they have a two-person cell, because I’d go right with you. Beat up whoever I needed to to get arrested, I don’t care.” Olivia said, eyeing the door once more, “I’d tell them I’m claustrophobic and having a breakdown and that I could have been hospitalized if you hadn’t gotten me fresh air, and they’re lucky I don’t sue them for barricading us in a room with no cell signal because this is totally a fire hazard. Like, what would to happen to us if there was a fire and you couldn’t break down the door? We’d be totally dead-”

“This is a **_bad_ ** inspirational speech, Livvy. I’m less than comforted and more worried than before.” Baptiste interrupted, “Can you give me the one about flamin-going for it and being a tou-can in the jungles of life or whatever it was again? I preferred that one to _dying in a fire_.”

“-Just trust me, Jean-Baptiste, I will have your back to the very end. I always have and I always will.” she promised him, “But you got two choices, Jean. Sit here and hope that someone lets us out in time or take matters into your own hands. What are you more scared of? The maybes scaring you in your head or the definites of upsetting Lu?”

That sealed it. Lu had had a hard enough time lately, what with his injury and all, and Jean didn’t want to add onto the pain. He wasn’t selfish. He would do everything in the world he could to be there for Lu, even if it wasn’t going to be for long at all.

He straightened up, backed up to the far side of the room, and readied himself to run at the door. He didn’t know the best way _to_ break down a door, he hadn’t learned that in medical school, but it looked weak enough that he could try to slam into it and maybe succeed. That was all he had. He hoped it would be enough.

With one last gulp he began sprinting as fast as he could, bracing himself for the impact, the bit of advice he had given Lu echoing in his head as he raced towards the door.

_Failing’s not the end of the world._

_At least it means that you_ **_tried._ **

\--------------------

Satya had lost count of how many times she had noticed Lucio looking her way for reassurance throughout the show. They were but half-second glances, checking to make sure that she was there and that she thought that everything was going alright. 

The large glowing eyes on his helmet made it easy to see when he looked her way, despite how subtle he tried to be. She could always tell when his head was about to turn her way, so she always made sure that she subtly smiled and stood confidently. 

She didn’t smile widely, she made sure not to. Lucio had told her that she smiled so rarely that when she did, it told him that something was wrong and made him nervous, complete with Kill Bill sirens going off in his head, whatever that meant.

So far, there was nothing to worry about. The show was going off without a hitch and Lucio’s movements had grown bouncier as if he was starting to enjoy himself out there, but as the show neared the final act she could see the tenseness and uncertainness returning. That was something that she was sure that only she was able to see, no one else knew him as well as she did.

Well... almost no one.

As she watched him start the second to last song, one of his longer medleys before the finale _Breakdown_ , the earpiece she wore crackled to life. She nearly tuned it out again - she didn’t need to hear another report of another rowdy, drunken person being escorted out the door - but decided to partial listen as she reread her checklist for the fortieth time.

 _“West Side Story here, anyone have the VIP list available for a name check? Over.”_ said the guard’s voice.

“ _Hello Dolly here. A VIP?_ **_Now?_ ** _There’s like twenty minutes left in the show.”_ said another male guard’s voice. 

West Side spoke again. _“Listen, I know there’s like twenty minutes left in the show, but I got someone who says that-_ ”

“ _Whatever, man_ . _Talk about being fashionably late, geez,_ ” Dolly cut in. 

_“I know-”_

_“What makes this one any different than the other groupies?”_

_“He had a text.”_

_“You read the text?”_

_“No, his phone died.”_

_“Well, ain’t that-”_

_“I know that’s convenient.”_

_“Sure is.”_

_“He’s convinced enough to give me his name.”_ West Side countered.

“ _If he says his name’s like Bob or Joe that knows someone backstage and_ **_really_ ** _needs to come in, you have permission to kick his ass.”_ Dolly said as he flipped through some papers. “ _I’ve got the list ready. Gimme me the name. Over.”_

_“You got the list? Alright, alright-”_

Satya looked up as she listened to the conversation, heart leaping into her throat as she pressed a finger to her earpiece. There was only one name on the VIP list. The name that Lucio had requested-

_“John Batiste Awgoostin”_

Well, that’s not how she would have said it, but that was the name. Lucio’s Jean-Baptiste was at the gate. Despite the odds, despite how late it was, he had actually arrived. Now he would be escorted back here before the concert was over-

Dolly read off his list. “ _No Johns on the list.’_

_“No one by that name?”_

_Nope. I’ve got a lady’s name as the only name on the list. A Jean Baptist Augustine.”_

_“You have a Jean Baptist Augustine as the only unclaimed backstager?”_ West Side repeated. 

_“Yup. Send him away.”_ Dolly told him. “ _Call for back-up if he won’t cooperate._ _We’re done here. Over and out.”_

_“Hmmm…”_

Then the radio cut off as the conversation stopped, leaving Satya staring out at the stage in horror. She had verbally told the Helix coordinator Jean's name and ensured that it was written down. Somewhere between then and now someone had misspelled the name and turned him into someone else.

Jean couldn’t just leave, not when he was so close, but now he might. If security wouldn’t let him in, and was going to tell him to leave, what other choice did he have?

She desperately wished that she had a walkie-talkie to communicate with the security team, but all she had been given was an earpiece so that she could keep tabs on situations. If she was going to try to track down someone to straighten this situation out, she was going to have to leave now.

Which meant leaving Lucio alone. As the final, damned song was growing near. What was she supposed to do?

The answer was clear. If Lucio found out that Jean had tried to make it, and been denied, and Satya did nothing, what would he think of her? And what if he never found out? What if he always thought that Jean had abandoned him? Could she live with herself if she kept the truth from him?

No. Simple as that; no, she couldn’t. She couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. Not about this.

Lucio glanced her way in the middle of his set, once again, and she waited until his eyes were forward again before she ran away. She hoped that she could fix things quickly enough to be back before he noticed and worried, but if she wasn’t - and she doubted that she would be - he hoped that he would be able to manage without her there.

She spared one last glance over her shoulder, back at Lucio who was now focused on the audience, as she ran along backstage, finding a member of the security team patrolling the hallway.

“Excuse me,” she called out, grabbing the guard’s attention, “I need some assistance.”

The guard - his nametag said Mahmud - turned to face Satya, fingers hooked in his belt as he stood wide-legged, surveying the area behind her before he nodded politely at her. “Ms. Vaswani.” he said, greeting his temporary employer with a smile, “How may I be of assistance?”

“I need you to radio… _West Side Story,_ I believe, and ask him what he’s done with a man he just spoke to at the gate - Jean-Baptiste. Now, please.”

The man pulled his walkie-talkie off of his belt and clicked it on. “Carousel, here. Is West Side Story on call?”

 _“West Side Story here,”_ a man’s voice replied, “ _What’s the situation?”_

“Miss Vaswani’s asking after you. Wants to know about a Jean-Baptiste, she said.” Mahmud continued, “Got any information for her?”

“ _Oh!_ _She knows the man?”_ West Side said excitedly, “ _Good, good, I was about to go to Captain Khalil, I mean Cabaret, and ask him his opinion on how to handle the situation so I could return to post.”_

“What did you do with the fellow?”

 _“Brought him in and shut him and his friend in Organization Room 15 A sector for now until I could a way to have the message passed along to his Lou he says set aside passes for him,”_ West Side continued, “ _Bent the rules a bit, but his name was too much of a coincidence to chase out. You gonna handle this or should I pass it on to the Captain?”_

Mahmud looked down at Satya, awaiting her input, which she quickly gave. “I will go there personally and handle it myself.”

“We’ve got this handled. Return to your post.” Mahmud confirmed, “Thanks, West Side Story. Over.”

Then Mahmud slipped his walkie-talkie back onto his belt and nodded down the hallway. “Would you like an escort?” he asked her politely.

“No, thank you, I’ve got this under control now.” she said, starting to rush past him, “Thank you for your assistance.”

The man’s eyebrows raised but he didn’t dare argue, instead tipping his security cap to Satya’s hurrying form as she raced past him as she made her way over to Sector A storage, then resuming his route. 

Even as she moved around back here, she could still hear the music playing. Lucio was now half-way over with his current song. They were running out of time.

Soon she arrived at the room, marked with an OR15A on the door for short. There was a turn lock on the outside of the door, twisted into the locked position, keeping the door securely in place.

She paused for a moment, suddenly nervous. She didn’t know necessarily who was behind this door. If it was Lucio’s Jean or someone dangerous who has used his name to-

Satya sighed at herself and pushed the thought from her mind. She knew perfectly well who’s behind this door. No one would just pick the name Jean-Baptiste on a whim. 

Standing beside the door, she reached out and slowly unlocked it. Then her fingers wrapped around the cool, metal doorknob and she shut her eyes and pulled open the door before she could change her mind.

It was going to be fine, she told herself, making herself open her eyes back up. There was nothing for her to be concerned-

Satya’s thoughts were cut short as she watched Jean-Baptiste go sailing out of the room, out through the doorway, stumbling past her and trying to stay upright but inevitably failing. He ended up falling on his face five and a half feet away from the room, his jeaned ass up in the air before he slowly began to push up off of his hands and knees.

Olivia then poked her head out through the doorway, looking between Satya and her fallen friend. “He was just leaning on the door,” she calmly explained to the wide-eyed woman, smiling charmingly, “Ain’t he a clumsy one?”

Satya could only stare at Olivia, who gave her a coy smile and a wink, confused. How did Jean-Baptiste get such distance if he was only leaning against the door? Mathematically, it didn’t- Oh well, there was no time to wonder. They had to get moving.

Jean had gotten up to his feet by now and turned around nervously. As his eyes locked onto Satya, his eyes widened and his jaw dropped.

“Miss Satya?” he asked in confusion, quickly straightening up, “Is Lu here?”

Her mouth moved, words unsaid, as she narrowed her eyes at him. What did he mean was Lu here? Hadn’t he read the text? Of course, he had, he wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t. Did he not realize that Lucio was here, on stage… 

She looked towards Olivia questioningly, but all Olivia did was shrug, check the time on her phone, and say, “He’s not caught on yet. Give him three minutes or less, if we’re lucky. He’ll figure it out.”

Jean looked between her and Satya. “Figure what out?” he asked exasperatedly, hands held up in confusion.

Satya’s shoulders slunk as she intended to finally fill him in, but then she heard the music stop. The song had finished, which meant that _Breakdown_ was about to begin. They had no more time.

“I’ll explain later, come with me _now_.” she ordered, marching and grabbing his wrist tugging him along behind her as she hurried back towards the stage. Olivia jogged along, catching up easily and kept pace as they hurried.

“Where are we going? Why are you here, Satya?” Jean asked her, head turning every which way, looking around frantically, as they walked. “Did Lu get you a backstage pass too or-”

“No, he didn’t need to-” Satya explained, gazing up at the speakers as the thundering boom of _Breakdown’s_ opening notes began to play. She made the group jog along with her now, “I’m his manager.”

“His manager-? Do songwriters get-? I-, uh, so where is Lu?” he asked, focusing back on her. “Is he okay? Has he been okay?”

“He’s fine- a bit nervous, and a bit distraught that you weren’t here,” she told him, holding no punches, “Where were you? Why didn’t you respond to him?”

“I dropped my phone in a bucket of water two days prior and Olivia had to fix it and didn’t see the text until half an hour ago.”

“He’s kind of an idiot at times.” Olivia cut in to remind her.

“I’m so sorry,” he finished, eyes looking past her before they refocused, “So where’s Lu?”

“He’s on stage now, as he has been for the last two hours.” Satya told him.

“What? Wait, wait. Wait. **_On_ **stage?” Jean asked, “I thought he was a songwriter…”

“He is, in a sense. Lucio writes all his own music,” Satya answered. Her arm shot back as she was jerked to a halt by a Jean who planted his feet.

His brown eyes widely stared into hers, his mind retracing all their time together, an understanding finally crossing them as all the pieces clicked into place. “Wait.” he said, motioning for silence, “Wait. Lu is- Lu- He- On- He- Lu- Oh- _Oh_ ... _Oh bondye mwen, Lu se Lucio!? O Bondye mwen, mwen se konsa estipid-”_

Satya didn’t speak his language, but she understood his tone enough to get what he was saying. He couldn’t believe it. He hadn’t realized Lu was Lucio, and he thought himself a fool for not realizing it before now.

Olivia had glanced at her phone and slipped it back into her pocket. “I’m proud of you, Jean, that was faster than expected.”

He turned to face Olivia, “Wait, you _knew?_ ” he asked her.

“I kind of got that vibe from the text,” she told him gently, lying through her teeth, “I’m surprised you didn’t, but we didn’t have the time to sit down and talk it out, I’m afraid.”

Satya, impatient, had begun tugging him along once more. Time was of the utmost essence. He could mumble his disbelief as clearly while walking as he could standing still.

Right as she got their pace decent, Jean halted once more, stopping so strongly that Satya couldn’t get him moving again no matter how much she tugged. “Oh my God,” he said, looking absolutely distraught, “I told him his second album was bad-”

“Well, he _hates_ his - _oof_ \- second album.” Satya said, tugging him along roughly from the front, barely getting him to move. “With a few songs - _krpaya hate_ \- as exceptions.”

“So don’t worry your - _guh_ \- pretty little head about it, Bap.” Olivia said as she rammed full force into his back and tried to shove him from behind.

“ _Because_ _he knows_ , _”_ Olivia and Satya said simultaneously, both trying to get the man moving again. With their efforts combined, and a lot of pulling and pushing, they got Jean back on track

As they continued moving, nearing the backstage area, Satya dared to continue filling Jean in, praying that he didn’t stop again. “He’s got a song, _Breakdown,_ the song that’s playing now, that he has panic attacks about performing but management insists that he do it,” she quickly explained, “He passed out at the last New York show during it and had to stay at the ER and freezes and panics every time he has to perform it. He considers you a source of confidence and wanted you here to try to help him make it through the song-” 

She didn’t need to say another word. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go!” Jean said, now running ahead of her and dragging Satya behind him, “I need to be there for him. I can’t let him down. Not again.”

The trio collided as they stopped by the edge of the stage, but Jean was sturdy enough to stay upright despite the two females crashing into him. Satya glanced past his broad form and looked out at the stage.

The song was playing, they had just about begun the dance sequence Lucio stood stiffly on stage in front of his DJ stand, all his confidence having faded at the beat neared its drop...

They were too late.

“Oh no.” she said under her breath, her face falling as she watched this trainwreck grow nearer by the second.

“Oh no?” Jean asked, his eyes flitting between her and his Lu - uh, Lucio, rather. That was going to take some getting used to - on stage. “He’s performing the song, isn’t he?”

“It’s the dance.” she clarified. “He can’t do the _dance_ anymore. That’s why they made him end the show with it. So we would lose and they would win…”

Much to the group’s surprise, Lucio actually began the dance on time, but Satya knew that it wouldn’t last. “Every time it reaches the halfway point he crumbles.” she said, then shutting her eyes and saying a small prayer, “Please find the strength, Lucio, you can do this. I know you can.”

Jean-Baptiste was still in a state of shock, having found out that the man he had been dating was one of his favorite musicians. It made sense that he kept it a secret though. That let him be treated as a person, not as a celebrity, and not as a robot that was expected to perform on command.

He had just wanted to be human. For just a little while. Jean couldn’t blame him for that.

His thoughts turned back to the first night they hung out, back to the club where Lucio had shoved him away as this song began to play. How he seemed so upset that he hadn’t been able to do the dance… it made sense now.

Jean had offered to teach it to him. That sounded so conceited now that he thought back to it, offering to teach the DJ his own famous dance, but now it gave him an idea, a last-ditch attempt at not letting his Lu down.

In his text, Lu had said that sometimes he liked to picture himself dancing with Jean to _Jump_.

He hoped that it held true for this song too.

\----

Lucio wished that his medley set would never end. That he could just keep playing the songs in an infinite loop and never have to face the final song. The closer that _Breakdown_ drew near, the more the confidence he thought he had cracked and spider-webbed, like a piece of glass under too much pressure.

Hanzo was right. His broken confidence had served as too flimsy a foundation for any new confidence to be built. It was all starting to crash down.

The last bit of the medley sounded like a funeral song to him, his own funeral, and _Breakdown_ was going to be his own personal hell to fry alive in. He had to face it though, he had no choice.

The song finished and he found himself glancing Satya’s way for reassurance as _Breakdown_ threatened to begin. She wasn’t there.

His eyes scanned the backstage area desperately, hoping that she had just been working on some kind of minor task that had just taken her out of view for a moment, but she didn’t reemerge. He looked towards the other half of the stage but was only greeted by the Blackwatch crew preparing themselves for a tear-down once the show was over.

She was gone. Lucio couldn’t blame her. She had never enjoyed watching disasters or embarrassments in movies or TV shows… why should she have to stand here and watch his embarrassment of a disaster about to unfold in front of the world?

She had been kind enough to stick around for so long, letting him fall into a false sense of security about how she would never leave. But it seemed like it was her time to go now. He didn’t blame her for leaving him behind. Everyone did eventually.

He couldn’t chase that thought away, even as the booming song began. The loud chords only served to shove the thought deeper and deeper into his brain; Satya knew that he couldn’t do it and she had left him while she still had the chance.

And the more the thought looped around in his head, tunneling deep and destroying every other thought it touched, the more he began to believe it too.

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t. He couldn’t. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He can’t. He won’t. He won’t. He can’t. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He couldn’t. He couldn’t. He couldn’t do it.

He couldn’t.

If only he had the chance to leave too. But no, he was going to have to stand here and humiliate himself once again, and the talk show rumors would start again, the message board rumors would start again, and everyone would see him as the failure he was. The lucky boy who had clawed his way to stardom, but didn’t deserve any of it.

He felt his throat tightening as his eyes began to water. His movements were mechanical as he skated out in front of the DJ stand, waiting awkwardly for the dance beat to start.

There were so many eyes on him, so many, too many, and they all burned. They all wanted to see him fail. He knew they did. That’s why they were still here watching. Because everyone loves a good trainwreck.

Muscle memory alone was going to be enough to get him through the first half of the dance. It wasn’t going to be the smoothest, most energetic, most lively performance, but it would be done. That was more than he could say for the second half of the song.

His helmet began to feel too tight, too small. His jumpsuit felt like it was strangling him, as constricting as a Python squeezing the life out of him. The lights burned, their brightness near blinding, and the music blasting through all the speakers around him vibrated his whole body, drowning out the cheers of the crowd and drowning out most of his thoughts and leaving his mind panickingly blank.

His body began to stop moving, arms falling by his sides, and feet pulling together so that he didn’t slide down to the floor. He felt like he was about to lose his mind. Maybe he already had.

Looking at the spot where Satya had stood way once more, he wanted to offer her a silent apology, wherever she was, for his failure, about how he couldn’t hold up his end of the job despite all that she had done for him. But as his eyes focused through the steamy lenses, blinking away the tears, he couldn’t believe what he saw.  
  
There was Satya. There was Olivia...

And there was Jean-Baptiste. He had made it. He had actually made it.

Jean stood off-stage, but in-sight to only Lucio and the other backstagers, doing the infamous _Breakdown_ dance along to the beat and smiling at Lucio. His smile grew bigger as he noticed Lucio looking at him, but the dance never stopped. In fact, he motioned for Lucio to join him, encouraging him to dance along from the stage.

Lucio found his arms moving once more, his legs daring to even try grooving, as he began to try following along with Baptiste. Eyes glued onto him, Lucio began to numbly copy the steps. Baptiste’s feet moved smoothly, gliding on the polished wood floor, hitting every beat of the dance perfectly along with a now-dancing Lucio.

And with Jean’s help, Lucio began to find his rhythm, the one he had lost at the last New York show. A wave of familiarity washed over him as his body began to move on its own in time to the music. It was coming back to him

His eyes were locked onto Jean at first, his unseen grin growing under his mask, but as he launched into the dolphin dive - a move Jean accompanied with only a chest roll, he wasn’t that daring - he faced forward and closed his eyes.

Now he understood why Jean said that he preferred to dance and sing with his eyes shut. It let him pretend that he was somewhere else. It let Lucio pretend that Baptiste was dancing right beside him on stage.

But he didn’t need to pretend that anymore, did he? Because Jean-Baptiste _was_ here with him. He really was. He had made it. Why bother with pretending anymore? What was the point when his dream had come true?

Slowly, he dared to open his eyes back up and look towards the crowd once more. If he focused in the front rows, the ones he could see through the lights, he could see people dancing along with him. Suddenly, the unseen mass of black that had made up the crowd, the one he had thought wanted to see him crash and burn, had faces. Happy, smiling faces that were cheering him on.

For the rest of the song, his focus managed to stay forward mostly. Sometimes he had to check to his right and see that Jean was still there, dancing with him for every step of the routine. Every time he saw Baptiste, his heart soared and a burst of energy filled him, helping him last until the end of the song.

He finished the dance with a bow. The audience cheered loudly as he skated back behind his stand and finished DJ’ing along with the rest of the recorded song. He was playfully bouncing with the rhythm on his skated feet with a new confidence and energy burning brightly inside of him, like a phoenix rising from the ashes of his troubled soul, ready to start living the life he wanted.

As the last note finished, he skated back around the DJ stand, waving to the crowd and getting ready to bid New York a tearful goodbye. Even if he hadn’t won Sanjay’s game, even if he lost everything, he had put on a good last show. He could be happy with that, proud even, for now. 

But as his mouth began to open, Genji’s words echoed in his head. _You’re gonna show the world up, Lucio._

He had. He had proven the naysayers, himself included, wrong, and managed to pull off a hell of a show thanks to so many people’s help. He couldn’t have done it without his friends, some he had only gotten to _meet_ thanks to the damn show.

But the last thing that Genji had said to him stuck out to him.

_Show the world that Lucio is not replaceable._

Hadn’t he? He thought about it.

No, he realized. Not really.

To Jean, he might not be. To the few friends he had, he might not be. He wasn’t, not to them. And he loved that feeling of security, of belonging. Once the first taste of it had hit his parched tongue, he couldn’t get enough of it.

The world might not consider Lucio replaceable, maybe, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t _be_ replaced. His life was precariously balanced on Vishkar’s fickle, unstable whims, and Sanjay’s unhinged, fiery temper. He was held hostage in his own job. There was no security there,

No more. No more of it. He would show them. Vishkar and Sanjay had already threatened, beaten, and berated him, and had already decided to chain him up with contractual threats unless he gave in to their unreasonable demands… What did he have left of his career to lose?

Nothing. Not a damn thing.

He wanted so desperately to live Con Alcuna Licenza and the first step to that freedom meant breaking free of the heaviest chains that he hid behind, that bound him. It meant **_taking back_ ** the one thing from Vishkar he could control.

The mask. 

The mask that he had designed with his own two hands, that had been with him every part of the journey. The mask that protected him as much as it constricted him. This time, it had to go. 

It was the only way to take back any control, to lessen Vishkar’s grip on him, and take away their constant threat of letting someone else take over his life at the slightest threat of defiance.

Show the world that Lucio is not replaceable?

He could.

He _would._

His gloved fingers shot to the clasp under his mask and he fumbled with it for a moment before he stripped his gloves off and threw them down on stage. His damp fingers returned to the clasp, finally managed to get a grip on it.

He could hear Satya’s voice from the wings - whether it was real or if he was imagining it he didn’t know - asking what he was doing, but he didn’t stop. He had come too far to stop now.

Pinching the clasp open, the strap under his chin fell loose. Hands planted on the sides of the helmet, he slowly and carefully pulled it off, finally revealing himself to the world.

His sweat-soaked hair fell out of its loose tie, hanging heavily by his face. Holding a hand up to block the even more blinding spotlights, he gazed out into the dark crowd with wide-eyes and was met only with silence.

His heart thumped in his chest, one two three, one two three, and his pulse thundered in his ears. Without the mask separating him and the audience, he began to feel very small and exposed.

What did they see, he couldn’t help but wonder, what were they thinking? Did they like what they saw? Or had he disappointed them all by ruining the mystery? Was he everything they had ever imagined or nothing like they had thought at all? Was he enough? Would he ever be?

No matter what they thought, his point had been made. They couldn’t just replace him now, not without everyone knowing. He was more than just a mask. More than just a DJ. He was Lucio, always and forever.

The silence felt like it lasted forever, but it was only about half a minute before the theater erupted in the loudest cheer of the night. 

**_Lucio! Lucio! Lucio!_ **

As they began chanting his name, a small smile worked its way onto his face and the tears he had been fighting all night began to spill out of his eyes.

“ **_Thank! You! NEW YOOOOORK!”_ ** he yelled into the microphone, his voice ringing throughout the theater, unable to hold back either the massive smile on his face or the tears flowing freely down his cheeks, “ **_THANK YOU ALL AND HAVE A WONDERFUL NIGHT!”_ **

His show now done, he was free to race off of the stage. He did just that, skating as fast as he could towards Baptiste. While Olivia and Satya stepped back and out of the way, Baptiste opened his arms wide, giving him a proper landing spot. Carefully dropping the helmet on the backstage floor as he skated, he flung himself into Jean’s waiting arms.

They spun momentarily, propelled by Lucio’s velocity, before Jean fell back onto the floor, his arms wrapped around Lucio tightly as he held him against his chest.

“I didn’t mean to knock you over-” Lucio began rambling, “Are you okay-”

“Fine! Fine!” Jean promised with an overjoyed laugh, reaching up and cupping Lucio's face in his hand, “I had a great skating coach once teach me how to fall.”

Lucio smiled at his words, feeling so happy and relieved that Baptiste had made it, and that he didn't seem to care how his Lu was Lucio, that he began to sob. It felt like a heavy weight had been lifted off of his chest and that he could breathe freely once more.

"Shhh," Baptiste said, trying to comfort him, hands softly massaging him. "You were amazing out there, Lu... Can I still call you Lu at all?"

"I- Yeah, absolutely, of course, please do, Baptiste. Forever your Lu, Jean, I meant that... I'm just glad that, ah, you could make it," Lucio breathlessly tried to explain between his sobs. "I missed you so much- 

“ _Tu me manques._ That’s how to say I miss you in French, but really it means ‘ _you are missing from me_ ’. That’s how it felt, that you weren’t where you belonged, here, in New York, with me.” Baptiste’s damp eyes flicked about on Lucio’s face, nervously watching him. “I'm so sorry that we were so late, Lu…-cio, you have no idea how **_awful_ **I feel, to have made you worry and stress, and I- I pray that you can forgiv-"

Jean's rambling slowed down to a complete stop as Lucio's hands cupped his cheeks. Lucio leaned down, pressing his forehead against Jean's, both of them hot and sweaty from their own recent exertions

"I don’t care that you’re late. You’re here. With me. That’s all I need. All I ever needed. I'm just glad that you're okay," Lucio said hoarsely, "I was worried, Jean. I-"

Unable to hold back any longer, and too emotional to even try to keep talking, he kissed Jean. Their lips gently met, the sensation dizzying, and Jean lightly cupped a hand against the back of Lucio's head instinctively.

As his hand began to massage Lucio's scalp, Lucio relaxed and moaned contentedly into the kiss. All the tension he had been carrying dissolved and he melted into a pool on top of Jean. Baptiste’s other hand slipped over his back, wrapping him even tighter in his huggable arms.

Two backstage crew members walked past them, carrying equipment in their hands, making a wide pass by Baptiste and Lucio’s fallen forms.

“Pardon us,” Satya said, excusing the occupied men. She stood at their feet, making sure that she blocked any potential paparazzi shots with her body, ensuring their privacy as best she could.

At the sound of her voice, Jean’s eyes snapped open and he glanced around while his lips still pressed against Lucio’s. As he saw the backstage crew walking by, busy dismantling the show, he hummed with an embarrassed realization that they were in the way.

Then, slowly, he sat up, wrapping his right arm around Lucio’s backside. Arm blindly reaching back behind him, he began to attempt standing up while not interrupting their makeout session.

He began to awkwardly pull his feet inward, trying to find a way to balance himself without upsetting Lucio’s position. Getting his feet under him, he tried to push himself upright. His left arm shook with tension as he searched for that position that he needed to get the two of them upright together without dropping Lucio or falling back on his own ass. Luckily Lu’s limbs had wrapped around him tightly, arms over his shoulders and feet around his hips, holding himself in place as Baptiste struggled.

With a grunt, tightening his grip on Lucio, he got into a crouching position. With a testing-rock forward, he threw himself forward and stood up, arm flailing as he briefly lost his balance. With a quick shift of his feet, and a bit more arm flailing, he managed to regain his balance.

Olivia silently asked if he was okay by making an okay symbol with her fingers. Baptiste, mouth still occupied, gave her a thumbs up in response. Then his formerly free hand slid under Lucio, helping to support the smaller man as Baptiste followed behind Satya, who began guiding him to the quiet dressing room hallway.

He had only walked a few steps before Lucio pulled back from the kiss, parting for much-needed air and panting breathlessly. His teary eyes looked curiously at him, then down at the ground, back over Jean’s shoulder at a waving Olivia walking behind them, and then back to Baptiste, clearly confused about why he was now in the air.

“I wanted to make out without getting trampled by the hardworking people who are carrying very heavy things over us,” Baptiste explained.

Lucio blinked owlishly, quickly wiping away a tear that trailed down his cheek, taking a second to come back down to earth before he understood. “Oh. Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” he agreed, taking a second to look down at Jean’s arms and the floor again. “You can put me down if I’m getting heavy, Baptiste, I know how to walk…” he swung a skate-wearing foot as he briefly glanced down at it, “...well, skate right now, I guess?”

“You’re not getting heavy anytime soon and I’m sure you’re exhausted. Let me help you, please. I don’t mind a bit.” Jean assured him with an affectionate smile, fingers affectionately squeezing him as he hoisted Lucio up higher on him. “I never want to let you go, Lu.”

Lucio giggled as Baptiste pushed him up higher, his emotions too high and low and every which way to hold back even the slightest hint of feelings, be it sudden elation or exhausted tears. “Do I even weigh anything to you?”

Baptiste gave another testing hoist and grinned. “No, not really. It’s like holding a handful of grapes,” he teased, wrapping a muscular arm around Lucio’s back and giving a squeeze.

“What if I told you that this carrying me around thing was kind of turning me on?” Lucio confessed with a chuckle as he sniffled, wiping his face on his shoulder, “But maybe that’s just because it’s _you_ and you’re here and… and..it’s you, Baptiste. It’s you.”

As the words left his mouth, he sagged tiredly into Jean’s arms. His head rested on Baptiste’s shoulder and his fingers dug deeply into Jean’s arms. Baptiste let him have a moment to process, poor man was frazzled to pieces, and after they reached the quiet back hallway, Jean carefully sat the two of them back down.

As soon as his butt hit the carpeted floor, Lucio shifted, legs straddling Jean’s as he pulled him into a tight, teary hug. Here, in the quiet hallway, Baptiste could let them take all the time they needed to come back down without getting stepped on. 

The universe had given him a second chance at happiness. He would absolutely make the most of it. Whatever he could do to make things right, he would. Whatever it took, however long it took, it would be done.

Lucio finally pulled his head back, wiping fresh tears away in embarrassment, and his mouth moved with unsaid words. Jean felt a guilty pit open back up in his stomach, threatening to swallow him from the inside out, and he knew that he still had a ways to go before he made everything right. An apology would be a good first step.

“I’m so glad you made it.” Lucio finally managed to say, his voice strained with emotion.

Baptiste was speaking at the same time. “I’m so sorry, Lu-”

Realizing that they were speaking over each other, they both stopped. Then, both realizing that neither was continuing, both prompted the other.

“Go ahead-” Lucio told him, tiredly motioning for him to speak and sitting back down on Jean’s lap, his nerves fried as a bathing toaster.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt-” Jean said with him as he rubbed the back of Lucio’s head, realizing how futile this game of theirs was turning out. “Please, Sunshine, continue. Please.”

“I didn’t think you were gonna make it. I was thinking that you read that text about who I was and decided that we were done and you were just gonna vanish-” Lucio said, watching as Jean shook his head in a silent reassurance.

“No, Lu-... cio, I would never do that to you,” Baptiste promised, arms resting loosely around Lucio’s body, offering a comforting presence but never restraining him, “That’s cowardly and disrespectful and I am neither of those. I would never hurt you. Do you hear me? Never.”

“I know you wouldn’t, I know, I just couldn’t stop myself from thinking that when the show started and I had no idea if you were okay or-," Lucio asked, paused, wide eyes blinking as he had to ask Baptiste a question. “Why didn’t text me back, Baptiste? Were you angry at all?”

Baptiste grinned sheepishly. "No, no. Not one bit. Well, not at you. Only at myself. I dropped my phone in a bucket of mop water at work." he explained, "Olivia pulled off a miracle and fixed it tonight and we just saw the text and ran over here as fast as we could, Lu, I promise you. We _ran_ over here when traffic stopped moving. I was going to break dow- ah,I’ll tell you that one later, um - and I’m so glad that-”

Lucio chuckled quietly at Jean’s confession, his laugh growing louder briefly before he calmed himself despite how it felt like his rapidly spiking mood would never come down. He had just broken his phone? He had mentioned a poor track record with them a time or two, hadn’t he? 

“How are you not at work at the bar?” Lucio had to ask, fingers nervously grasping at Jean’s arms, “How did you get St. Patrick’s day off?”  
  
“Uh, well, um, about that,” Jean began, smiling uncertainty and guilty up at him “I **_may_ **have quit my job to get here.”

Lucio’s eyes widened and he shifted nervously on top of Jean, his fingers tensing up and digging into Jean’s body, “You what-!?” he asked before he could stop himself.

“Well, _technically_ , they were going to fire me for not showing up early, which I couldn’t because I **_had_ ** to try to be here, because I wanted to be for you, but I _let_ them fire me, I suppose,” he explained with a thoughtful tilt of his head. “And you know what? I don’t care. Not one bit. It was a dead-end job anyway.”

“So what are you going to do now?” Lucio asked, panicking about how Jean had just quit his job. He was always talking about work over their calls, and he was a hard worker… Why did he seem so _calm_ about this?

“Don’t you worry, Lucio. I’ll find something.” he said with a smile and another shrug, “It’s been a long time since I let myself look forward to the future, and there are so many roads I could take, but... I’m in no rush. I can take my time and make sure _I’m_ happy with wherever I end up. My loans are paid and I’ve got enough money saved to not worry about that right now. Not when there are more important things at hand.”

Listening to Jean calmly talk about what had transpired, without a hint of anger or concern, Lucio relaxed. He leaned down and gave him another kiss, cutting off their conversation for a minute before he pulled himself back and asked the question he had been avoiding, “So, uh, do you care that I’m… well... _Lucio?”_

Jean took only a moment to reply, though the few seconds felt like a lifetime to Lucio, “I _care_ **_for_ ** you. I love _you_ , Lu, I did before I found out that Lucio was part of the package-”

“And, boy, did we have to spell _that_ out for him,” Olivia said with a grin as she nudged Satya in the arm. She and Satya stood together a ways down the hall, serving as budget bouncers who made sure that no one interrupted the two men’s heart to heart. Well, no one but her, anyway.

He ignored her and continued. “Lucio and Lu are the same person, right? The same sweet, beautiful soul that I adore, no matter what name he uses.” he said with a smile, “I understand why you would hide behind a different name, Lu, so people would treat you like a person and not a star, and I’m so thankful you gave me that chance to have you in my life. As you wrote in your message, I understand and want to say thank _you_ for ever loving _me_.” 

As Jean recited one of the most desperate lines from his letter, Lucio found himself smiling once more. That letter had been a true shot in the dark, a last-ditch effort, and, in part, a goodbye. Only in his dream would he have thought of Jean standing - more sitting - backstage after one of his shows. It was all he had ever wanted.

“I hope this won’t change anything between us, but that’s just wishful thinking, isn’t it? Things are going to change, just a bit, but I hope not much. I like what we have.” Baptiste mused, “But if things never changed, then people would never grow, so...” his eyes met Lucio’s once more and he grinned, “Let’s grow together.”

“Hate to break it to you, Jean, but I’m not getting any taller,” Lucio laughed, the growing more serious, “You mean grow into being better people?”

“I was thinking ‘grow old’, but also I like yours too. Small steps and all.” Jean said, letting his eyes roam over Lucio before he continued, “Love the outfit by the way, Sunshine.”

Lucio knew perfectly well what he was wearing, but he still looked down at the silver jumpsuit he wore. “Pretty reflective, huh?” he said as he looked back up at Jean.

“Very. Looks tight.” he bit his lip as he briefly squeezed his eyes shut at the words that had left his mouth, “That’s not what I meant- I was trying to say that it looks hot.”

“I think that’s more me than the clothes.” Lucio grinned, finally scooting back off of Jean and letting the other man finally look him over properly.

“The material does not look extremely breathable and combining that fact with the exertion you’ve just endured, how much you’re sweating, and the lack of hydration based on your continued stage presence and the helmet, I think it would be most prudent for you to take a moment and rehydrate yourself, if not for you than for my peace of mind.” he clarified as he pushed himself upright.

“So…” Lucio began, smiling cheekily. He had missed that nerdy talk so much, “You’re saying don’t wear the jumpsuit in bed?”

Baptiste’s brow knit as he looked between Lucio and his show costume. “If you wish to, then you may,” he said slowly as he leaned back and looked over Lucio’s outfit, carefully choosing his words, “I’ve never entertained the idea of bedding a sentient disco ball, but there’s a first time for everything…”

Lucio couldn’t help himself and threw his arms around Jean’s shoulders, hugging him tightly. Baptiste wrapped an arm around him with no hesitation, supporting both of them with only one muscular arm and keeping them from falling back over.

“I missed you, you nerd,” he said again, leaning back and looking Jean in the eyes. “Are you free tonight? Can we hang out?”

“Absolutely.” Baptiste assured him, “Anywhere you wish. There’s nowhere else in the world that’s more important to me tonight than being by your side.”

“I was thinking we order food to my hotel room over at the Horizon and watch a movie? Maybe you spend the night if you can?” Lucio suggested. “Don’t want to do too much tonight, maybe more tomorrow? It’s been a really long day.”

“I can imagine.” Baptiste said, patting his back comfortingly, “That sounds like a perfect way to spend the night.”

“Great!” Lucio grinned. “I’m gonna go to my dressing room and change into something more normal really quick-”

“Thank goodness,” Baptiste said with a playful sigh of relief.

“And I’ll meet you back here.” Lucio finished as he began to carefully get to his feet, letting Jean have his fun. “Think about what you want to eat. Anything you want at all. I’m buying and treating you tonight, Jean, and you can’t stop me.”

Satya finally cut in, looking down the hall at them. “Lucio, I’m going to have security coordinate to ensure there are no issues with leaving the theater. Don’t wander off at all, alright?”

Lucio tilted his head at her. “We’ve never had issues before-”

“They’ve never known your face before.” she pointed out, making a deep pit hollow out in Lucio’s stomach at the reminder of the reveal he had just done. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll manage this easily. There will have to be a few changes in the future, but we’ll figure things out. Go change, please.”

She extended a hand and helped him stand, and then watched as he skated farther down the hall, down towards his private room. He always made skating look effortless, but this time he appeared weightless, almost floating. He was so light on his feet right now, riding on his own little cloud of happiness.

He wasn’t the only one. While Jean and Lucio had been talking on the floor, Olivia had leaned in and said one thing to her, one that she knew was going to change their world even more.

_It is done and they should be finished._

Then she had smiled knowingly at her, coyly averting her eyes and looking elsewhere, either at the two men talking on the floor or around the backstage area. 

That one sentence had told her that she needed to get ready to help Lucio navigate the music world once more once the news got out and his label began to struggle, assuming he wanted to stay in it. She figured he would; music was his life and his first love, he wouldn’t just walk away.

The good thing was they already had a prospective label looking at him, and if that didn’t pan out, then his unmasking himself on live TV was definitely going to generate interest in the public eye, making him look like a lucrative asset.

They had options, though, that was the important thing. This time, they weren’t bound to one label and their ever-changing demands, she was going to cherry-pick the best opportunities and give him everything he could ever want for as long as she was still his manager. 

She was working for Vishkar, after all, contractually bound to them, and once Lucio moved on, leaving as she struggled to get out herself, he would probably be given a new agent to handle things by whoever signed him. He wouldn’t need her anymore.

Once she realized that, she didn’t feel so light anymore. Instead, it felt like she was a plummeting rocket ship, on a slow but inevitable crash-course to earth.

In the back of her mind, she had always known this was a consequence of setting him free from Vishkar’s cage. He was always meant to fly high, higher than she could ever dream of seeing, and she would try to content herself with helping him make it there.

Though their time may be short, she was going to make sure that he got his Con Alcuna Licenza life now that he had the chance, once and for all. There was no better gift, no better treat, that she could ever leave him with.

She dried her dampening eyes and began seeking out security to coordinate an exit strategy. This story wasn’t about her. It never had been. And she had no reason to cry yet.

And while it wouldn’t be easy for her, she would make it easy for him. They had had enough hard days, they were both due for an easy one. In the end, she always wanted to make sure that Lucio knew that he hadn’t misplaced his trust in her at any time. That she had always had his best interests in mind. 

She would have his back wherever he went, always and forever.

\------------

_Fifteen minutes earlier, 32,000 feet in the air:_

Hanzo and Genji Shimada were sitting in the back of a plane, flying high over the ocean. Hanzo had an open book in his lap, as he had for most of the flight, but had yet to read a single word of it. Instead, his eyes were glued to his laptop he had set up on a tray, streaming the end of Lucio’s performance.

Genji, who had won the window seat in a two out of three round of Jankenpon, had been leaning over and watching with him, capped pen sitting in his hoodie’s pocket, not doing his sudoku. They shared a pair of headphones, each brother getting an earbud, listening to the show.

As _Breakdown_ queued up, they both held their breath. Both of them knew from watching the rehearsals that this one song was going to be the one to make or break Lucio’s show.

He started strong, but began weakening at the halfway point of the dance. Genji whispered a worried “oh no” under his breath, and Hanzo didn’t say anything, silently willing him to find the strength to see the show through.

He could do it. He could. He just needed to believe in himself. 

That didn’t seem to be happening.

But as his performance picked back up and his movements became reenergized, both men sat up in their seats.

“He’s doing it.” Genji murmured breathlessly. Hanzo didn’t dare speak in fear of jinxing him.

And as Lucio bowed on stage, both brothers shared a look of joy and relief.

“He _did_ it.” Genji said, almost bouncing in his seat.

“He did.” was all Hanzo could say in reply.

Their eyes went back down to the screen and they watched as Lucio struggled with his helmet.

“What is he-?” Hanzo didn’t have time to finish his sentence before he watched as Lucio dared to unmask himself live on TV. The cameras focused on his face, the lenses so high-definition they could see the beads of sweat running down his face. “He just- He-”

“He took his mask off.” Genji finished, though something in his tone caught Hanzo’s attention. He sounded more amazed than confused, like he had been waiting for something like this…

“Genji…” he began sternly, “Did you have something to do with this?”

Genji’s hand shot to his chest and he leaned away from Hanzo in an over-the-top look of shock. “What do you mean by that, dear brother?”

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. _Dear brother?_ Seriously? **_That_ ** was his defense? All it did was make Hanzo think that either Genji had been somehow possessed by the spirit of an 1850s schoolgirl or that he **_did_ ** have something to do with the end of the concert. “Genji, don’t you- **_Genji_ ** **,** did you tell him to take-”

“Nope!” he said that with confidence, pulling out the pen he wasn’t using as he looked away from Hanzo and down at the book he was not working on, “I did no such thing.”

Hanzo’s lips pursed tightly as he looked his brother over. “So what did you tell him? I saw you talking to him before the show, Genji.”

“Told him to go out there, rock hard, show the world he’s a badass, and that he’s not replaceable.” Genji told him with a shrug, “That’s it.”

“That’s it.” Hanzo repeated, staring at his brother. He knew all of Genji’s tells, and he wasn’t showing any. That had been the truth.

“I swear it.” Genji promised, holding up his hands innocently, “Did you see how he skated off stage? All that energy? Do you think that his J-”

“I don’t know.” Hanzo knew what he was about to ask, “I’ll text Satya when we land and see.”

There was no need for Hanzo to text her. When they landed many hours later and he checked his phone, he found a text from Satya waiting for him.

It was a picture of Lucio laying on the hotel room couch, sleeping with a smile, laying on top of another sleeping man. They recognized the man from the few pictures they had seen of Lucio’s Jean-Baptiste.

The message Satya had written with it helped to release some tension that had still been carrying, stressed for Lucio the whole time, from their backs and shoulders, giving them the closure they both hadn’t realized they needed.

_\- He made it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:  
> Salopri: you mess up everything  
> Mèsi: Thank you  
> Oh bondye mwen, Lu se Lucio!? O Bondye mwen, mwen se konsa estipid:  
> Oh my God, Lu is Lucio? Oh my God, I'm so stupid  
> krpaya hate: Please move  
> \-----  
> Kudos, comments, and feedback are always super appreciated!
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3
> 
> Questions, comments, or concerns? Hit me up on here or on my Twitter: https://twitter.com/KittenzCaboodle


	15. Finale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Chapter warnings:  
> Brief mention of animal abuse (abandonment), used as example, does not actually happen.  
> Anxiety  
> Brief mention of Sigma feet.
> 
> Happy reading! <3

Lucio sat in front of the recording room’s audio-control panel, wearing a pair of askew headphones, only covering one of his ears. At the moment, there was no music playing, but there would be soon.

He didn’t dare touch any of the knobs or dials in front of him. All of this was foreign to him. He usually was on the other side of the glass when it came to recording, so actually being in the chair was kind of surreal.

To his right sat Olivia, who was busy tapping away at her phone. Her headphones hung around her neck as she waited with him. While he had been concerned about bothering her with this task, she assured him that she didn’t mind helping him out one bit, especially with this.

The two of them currently sat in Blackwatch Sound’s recording studio. Normally there would have had to be some kind of technician in here to run sound for him, an employee that he would have had to book, but Olivia had volunteered and gotten her foster father’s (who would have guessed she was related to Gabriel Reyes of all people?) approval to be here running sound instead. Apparently she was as good as a pro when it came to the behind-the-scenes electronics of the music world.

Besides, she had teased him, who was she to say no to Overwatch Records’ _newest_ **_star_ **?

\---------

Lucio and Satya had flown to New York City soon after the Vishkar implosion began, because apparently a record label was wanting a face-to-face interview. A few labels had appeared out of thin air, like sharks smelling blood in the water, but the contracts they offered and the general uneasy vibes from the agents didn’t really impress either of them.

This one was promising, she swore to him, and was worth the trip of meeting face-to-face, like the label insisted on in their email to him. At earliest convenience, they would like to talk business over dinner (all on their dime) in New York City. Six hour one-way flights were never convenient, but he could make it work.

They arrived early that morning and unpacked in the hotel suite, both of them taking a power-nap in the afternoon to be able to make it through this dinner meeting. If nothing else, even if nothing came of this meeting, there would be food.

Fancy food apparently. The establishment they were going to was a five-star dining experience with a dress code. He had been sure to pack his more comfortable formalwear. The black pants would be stiff, he couldn’t avoid that, but instead of a stiff, heavy suit jacket, he was going to wear a soft gray blazer over a white dress shirt which would be under his favorite fitted vest, a black one that was covered in celestial-looking paint splatters.

It was interesting and fun and a test. If whoever he was speaking to had issues with this article of clothing - something unique and bright - then he didn’t want them in charge of his music and career. Vishkar had tried to change and silence him, he would never let himself go through that again. If he couldn’t be himself, if he couldn’t let his personality and preferences shine, then he would go elsewhere, simple as that.

The restaurant they were dining at was called Sojourn, their slogan - **_the stay is temporary, the memories are forever_ ** _-_ quaint. Lucio had perused the menu online earlier, at Satya’s advice, making sure that he had an ordering plan in mind if he was allowed to pick his meal so that he wasn’t overwhelmed by all the choices. The extensive menu was filled with a plethora of contemporary French dishes, with the occasional Canadian meal popping up, denoted by a maple leaf beside its name.

That evening, Lucio and Satya were driven to the establishment, getting dropped off at the back of the restaurant, as close as possible to the door to keep them out of the rain. The record label had reserved the back room of the establishment for them, so that they could dine and speak without being interrupted by any of the other guests.

Lucio was still unused to being dropped off at back doors and slipping into places. That was the one real consequence of removing his helmet, but he had found that if he wore a hat and glasses, he could pull a Clark Kent and be invisible once more. It was nice to do that sometimes.

Not tonight, though. Tonight was too formal a night for hats, so in the back door they went.

As they approached the backdoor, Lucio spotted a man standing outside. He took a moment to look him over. The man stood under an overhang, staying dry as he stood outside and smoked a cigarette. 

His brown hair was shaggy, but the beard on his face was neatly kept. He had on a white dress shirt that’s top two buttons were undone, revealing just a peek of his sturdy, tan chest. There was a pair of suspenders over his shoulders, clipped onto his dark brown pants.

His relaxed stance straightened up as he heard Satya and Lucio walked towards him. He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth, holding it between two fingers, and looked up at the duo.

“Lucio?” he asked, “Hey you and Miss Satya made it-” he paused, looking at his watch, “Lil’ earlier than expected actually.”

“Better early than late,” Satya countered, trying to subtly wave the smoke away from her and her sensitive nose. She gave up and instead brought a hand to her face, trying to block out the scent of smoke.

The man noticed her discomfort immediately and dropped the cigarette, snuffing it out under his boot. “Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am,” he said, holding up a finger, asking for a moment. Turning his back to them, he fished out a small spray bottle from his back pocket and squirted a couple shots of the minty spray into his mouth.

Then he wheeled back around and smiled at the two of them, slyly tucking the bottle back into his pocket. “Jack an’ Gabe were just about set up in there anyway, y’all mind if I escort you two on in?”

Lucio didn’t reply immediately, busy staring at the man. The southern fellow looked familiar and it took Lucio holding a finger up in front of his own face, lining it up with the top of the man’s head, using it as a substitute for something that seemed to be missing before he realized who he was talking to.

“You’re Jesse McCree, the country singer,” he finally said, lowering his hand now that he realized what was up. Without his trademark hat on his head, something that he was never seen without, he had been difficult to place.

“Yessir’, that’d be me,” he said with a friendly smile and a nod, “Jack an’

Gabe, m’ dad and his hubby, the executives you’re talking to tonight, told me to tag along to this meeting. You’ll really be talkin’ with them mostly. I’m guessin’ they asked me to tag along to be pretty.” he added with a shrug.

“Doing great so far,” Lucio teased, “Keep up the good work.”

“Ain’t no work at all, honey. I’m just that good.” Jesse replied, playing right along with him. “I gotta ask, though, before we go inside and they start talking shop: how the hell do you do everything you do on skates on stage? All the dancing, and the DJ’in’ and the, well, skatin’?”

“Years of practice, and a lot of bruising my butt getting all the falls out of my system.” Lucio answered, “Now you tell me the secret of keeping your cowboy hat from falling off your head when rocking out in front of the crowd. Glue?”

McCree’s face lit up in a toothy grin as he looked Lucio up and down. “Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit, you’re a spunky one. Oh, I like you.” he said, his voice low and smooth, “Almost kinda worth getting all gussied up with the whole kit an’ caboodle to make the trek down yonder here instead of spending the night with my baby goat.”

Lucio understood most of those words separately. It felt like this was a genuine attempt at communication from McCree, a friendly one at that, and Lucio latched onto the one piece he was sure wasn’t some kind of southern slang.

“You have a baby goat?” he asked. He prayed that he actually meant a baby goat and that wasn’t some kind of cowboy phrase to mean something else. He would feel dumb and embarresed if he was wrong.

“Sure do!” Jesse said, whipping his phone out of his back pocket. His enthusiasm comforted Lucio. The man clicked on his phone and opened up a gallery of pictures, turning his phone around and swiping through them as he explained, “Jack an’ Gabe have a house up in North Salem, ‘bout an hour up from here. S’a lil’ ol’ farmhouse with a bit of land, nice green, down-country-feelin’ kind of place, got a guesthouse they’ve been letting me use when I stay up there.”

He swiped through the pictures, showing a restored antique farmhouse surrounded by green fields and a few massive trees. There was an old barn on the property, a small penned in area, and a shot of the guesthouse in the distance.

“They’ve got a condo down here in ol’ N.Y.C. too, but I think Jack wanted a quiet place to decompress and he wasn’t gettin’ that in the city. Too hustle an’ bustle, y’know? That house is a part time home for ‘em and I’m blessed that they let me join them up there.” Jesse said, adding with a laugh, “Gabe always said that you can take the boys out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the boys. That _Viejo’s_ right.”

Then Jesse turned the phone back around and looked for a picture as he continued to explain. “I took a month-long camping trip in February to clear m’head a few weeks back. Drove to the Gila National Park in New Mexico, about a thirty hour drive, to go camp in the desert there and on m’way back, while driving through a stretch of no-man’s land, I came across some coyotes. They was chasing down mama goat and her son and they caught mama. Tore the poor gal to shreds, she probably hadn’t recovered from giving birth completely. I parked m’truck and baby ran t’me ta’ get away. Just hauled the kid up and shut the door and drove ‘fore the coyotes realized their dessert had split. No tags, no house ‘round for miles, so… uh, yeah… I’m a dad now.”

Lucio and Satya exchanged a look. “Did-” Lucio began, “Did you drive thirty hours back with a baby goat in your truck?”

“Mmmhmm. Longer, with all the stops I had to make. Not an experience I’d care to repeat anytime soon, but as soon as you figure out what a baby goat’s potty dance looks like and you learn to let him suckle your finger until you can pull-over and bottle feed the kid so he’ll stop headbuttin’ your side, it ain’t too bad. I used to live on a farm, once upon a time, I know how to care for him. He slept a lot too, wrapped up in an ol’ shirt of mine, which helped.” he finally found the picture he was searching for, and proudly showed it to both Lucio and Satya, who both couldn’t hold back quiet coos of delight at the sight of an adorable baby animal.

The picture depicted a small, very fluffy baby goat. He was white with black accents, including two black patches around his big eyes. In the picture he was sitting drowsily on a sleeping Jesse’s lap, an empty bottle beside him.

“His full name is Bandito Juanito, el Cabrito Chiquito, call him Juanito or Bandito for short. Jack took this picture here, teasing me about my new son. Jokes on him, he’s a grandpa now.” Jesse said, turning his phone around and smiling at the picture before he tucked it back away. “Besides, the man’s got a pet goose named Athena, follows him around like a dog. I think I’m allowed a goat.” he said this with a smile, clearly teasing.

His smile faltered as he checked the time on his wristwatch, letting out a low whistle. “Lord blessed me with the gift of gab, but he plum forgot to give me a sense of time.” he stood up straight and stepped up the two steps leading inside, holding open the door for Satya and Lucio, “Lemme get you folks on inside. It’s dark as the mines out and a sky like that means we’re in for a real frog strangler here soon and my dads would tan m’hide if they realized I kept you out here and let you two get as sprinkled as a sundae.”

Holding open the door, he stood to the side and offered Satya a hand as she followed him up the steps, extending the same courtesy to Lucio who politely refused it. 

The inside of the restaurant was nicely dim. Not straining the eyes, but not overly bright. The tables were covered in white tablecloths, a sign that the restaurant either had high expectations of their clientele to eat a spotless dinner or a sign of confidence in their backroom bleach supply. There was a buffet that had a few items on it already, with a waitress unloading the last of the dishes off of her small cart.

Two men stood next to the table, talking. Lucio recognized them from the news and pictures he had seen. That was Jack Morrison and Gabriel Reyes, Overwatch Records’ owners. The men who invited him here tonight to dine and negotiate.

Jack Morrison stood tall in a dark blue suit, a silky blue tie wrapped around his throat and a white handkerchief tucked into his pocket. His fringe-cut blond hair had grays streaked through it, as did his five o’ clock shadow, an inevitable coloring that came from stress and aging. His gray blue eyes were soft, a stark contrast to the large jagged scar across his face, and the small one that cut through his lips.

It was a known fact that Morrison had lost his first husband in a horrific car accident many years back, he said as much in an interview when asked about his scars. That had shut the interviewer right up. 

Gabriel Reyes stood beside him. The man’s dark hair was crewcut and fluffy, with the barest hint of curl. His dark beard was neat, his dark eyes confident. His suit was black, a classic look spiced up with all his red accents, from his undershirt to the handkerchief in his pocket, to his cufflinks. His handsome face had a number of small scars, each forming a part of a long story that he would never tell.

Overwatch Records had come about from the two men, former college sweethearts who reunited two and a half decades ago, going all in and buying out a failing, liquidating Gibraltar Studios from a mismanaging board. It was a risk and it had paid off immensely. Between Morrison’s business sense and managerial skills and Reyes’ knowledge of the music world, having been a self-confessed theater nerd who worked every facet of the backstage, and his daring intuition, they had made quite the name for themselves.

Their reputation, clean-cut with a number of big-name, seemingly content, musicians under their label, made Lucio feel more at ease than he had with the other vultures that had been circling him.

“Hey, _Jefe,_ Jack,” Jesse called out, leading Lucio and Satya up to the other two men, “Guests are here.”

Morrison checked his watch. “Ah, they’re early, just a bit. Just in time, really, the appetizers were early too,” he said quietly. Then he tucked his hands behind his back and strode over to greet them, exuding an authority that was as impressive as it was calming. He walked with the confidence of a soldier, but he had the air of a father-figure, someone that wanted to help others succeed. It was entirely different than what Lucio was used to. He refused to believe it was real. Not yet.

With a polite bow, Morrison held out a hand to Lucio, who shook it briefly, and then to Satya.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you two face-to-face,” he said, his voice was gruff but warm, reminding Lucio of his little league soccer coach. “I’m John Morrison, but please, call me Jack. I thank you for taking the time to come meet with Reyes and I. I hope tonight is a night that’s enjoyable for you and your manager-”

Reyes had walked over while he was talking and threw an arm over Jack’s shoulder. “You two hungry?” he asked, holding his own hand out for Lucio to shake, “We ordered some appetizers to start, we have wine ready, but menus are the table for you two to look at when ready. Order whatever you want, it’s all on us tonight.”

As McCree offered to take Satya and Lucio’s coats for them, willing to walk them over to the spare table they were using as a coat rack, Reyes continued.

“Nice to finally shake your hand, Ms. Vaswani,” he said with a smile, extending his hand her way, “Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but I’ve heard that you and the Shimada brothers are in contact, is that correct?”

Satya raised an eyebrow at him as she briefly shook his hand, “That is correct,” she answered, “Why do you ask?”

Morrison answered for him. “We’re currently in negotiations with the brothers, mainly dealing with Hanzo, and for lack of a better word-”

“-That man’s a wolf. I think he’s stringing us along and keeping an eye on what happens tonight to determine whether he and his brother sign, split, or renegotiate.” Reyes finished. “He’s watching for the results here, right?”

A small smile ticked onto her lips. “He may very well be,” she admitted. “We may have both spoken about the offer they received and expectations for future offers, yes.”

“Trying to sign three in-demand label-less stars is not easy,” Morrison admitted, “Two charting musicians and a top-notch choreographer slash manager-”

“I mean, choreographery ain't exactly a full-time essential, right? Depending on the person, I mean, I know some people prefer havin’ it,” McCree cut in, carefully laying down the jackets and returning to the group, “But take me for instance; I just go on stage, play m’ guitar, sing my song, and, if I’m feelin’ frisky, maybe Texas-two step and shake my ass just a whit. Choreography’s-”

Reyes had been typing on his phone while Jesse was talking, and he interrupted McCree by shoving the screen in front of McCree’s face.

“Who’s-?” Jesse paused, looking at the screen, “That him?”

“That’s Hanzo Shimada, yes,” Reyes answered.

McCree took the phone out of his hands and looked at it more closely. Then, with a low whistle, reluctantly handed the phone back, “Y’know what? Maybe I do need some choreography in m’life.” he admitted, “Think he gives private lessons? I’ve always been a more hands-on, one-on-one kind of man.”

“McCree-” Jack began to say.

“I’m just sayin', it ain’t easy bein’ a single dad and he’s fine as frog hair split four ways-” he paused, “You think he’s got a soft spot for ruggedly handsome cowboys and or baby goats?”

“Jesse, son, please just go start eating,” Gabriel said, with a shake of his head, “Pardon him, he-”

“I could ask his brother for you,” Lucio offered with a smile, not blaming Jesse at all for his reaction. The Shimada brothers were good looking men. “We’ve been texting a bit. But, like, come on now, who doesn’t like baby goats?”

“See? That’s exactly my point, thank you, I knew I was right to like you. Iffin’ you wouldn’t mind-” Jesse started, but stopped when he saw Reyes giving him a look. The look of a tired, disappointed parent who was too polite and socially minded to call their kid out, but who was saying a silent prayer that they would wise up and shut up. A look he was all too familiar with. “Iffin’ you wouldn’t mind, let me pull a chair out for y’all and let’s go enjoy some fine, _fine_ food and company. Don’t want the appetizers gettin’ cold, right?”

Appetizers now loaded onto plates, they all sat down to eat and idly chatted about the food as an ice-breaker. It wasn’t long after all five of them placed their orders, Lucio getting a beef bourguignon and a plate of authentic poutine, and Satya ordering a tarte moutarde-tomate and an aubergine à l’échalote, that Morrison and Reyes began to talk business with them.

As it turned out, Overwatch Records was currently the top bidder for Lucio’s entire discography. His life’s work was a signature away from being owned by yet another company, being taken far out of reach.

The reason that this meeting had been called was because Morrison and Reyes had no interest in taking away Lucio’s work from him if he didn’t want to sign. They wanted the package deal or they were going to walk away. Despite how much Lucio’s music would be worth, and how much they could make from owning it, taking the art away from the artist was not their way.

If Lucio chose not to sign with them, they would back out. If Lucio did choose to sign with them, then they would be the music collection and, as written in their contract, would transfer a percentage of the rights over to him over time until he had nearly full-ownership of his music, save for a small percentage of royalties they would take.

If Lucio signed with them, he would have to move to New York, they preferred their talent local and nearby for easy coordination, but they would pay for a condo for the first year, and then after that his hefty salary, benefits, and assumed future profitable endeavors would make for an easy transition into him funding himself.

“How hands-on are you?” he had to ask them, surprising Satya, who had been the brunt of the negotiation and contractual speak up to now, “How much creative control are you asking for?”

Morrison and Reyes exchanged a look. “What are you specifically asking about?” Reyes asked cautiously.

“Are you going to change my music to match some kind of trend that a computer guesses is going to happen?” he asked, “Are you going to demand control of my life? Are you going to take my music and change it into something I don’t recognize?”

“No.” Morrison said with a shake of his head, 

“Is that what happened with album number two? Corporate interference?” Reyes asked, his pencil pausing momentarily, getting a sad nod in reply. “Ah.”

Jack continued. “We here at Overwatch Records prefer our artists have their own identities and ascribe to a personal philosophy of allowing creative freedom with minimum interference as long as its consistently performing at a level of upper adequacy or better-”

Reyes leaned forward and cut in. “Basically, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” he supplied. He leaned over and reached down beside him and sat up, laying a sketch book on the table. “I have been working on some very basic identity revamps for you, if you want to sign with us?”

It was Lucio and Satya’s turn to exchange a look. “Identity revamp?” she asked hesitantly.

Reyes scooted the sketchbook closer to them, having room now that most of their plates had been cleared. On it were quick sketches of different outfit pieces, using Lucio’s frog logo as a focal point, with color ideas swatched onto the corner.

“Right now you’re going through a transitional phase of your career, with revealing yourself and your label changing,” Reyes explained, using his pencil to point at the sketchbook, “It’s the perfect time to try a new look. Your silver and gold outfits would be great for shows, either all of the time or occasionally, but a fresh look would solidify this metamorphosis and excite the fans. The Lucio they know and love, back and better than ever.”

Lucio leaned back and thought for a moment. “I get a say in all this, right?”

“Absolutely.” Reyes nodded, taking the sketchbook back and putting it away, “I offer advice, you call the shots, we make it, whatever it is, happen.”

“Okay…” This was all so new to him. It was so hard to believe it was real. “I kind of like the idea of changing my look up, just a bit.” he admitted. “Get away from that clean-cut Vishkar image and be more… me.”

It hadn’t even dawned on him before now that he was free to… do that. Change who he was and what he dressed like. Well, maybe he wouldn’t be free to, if who he signed with didn’t allow it. Hmm...

“Reyes, you look like a kid on Christmas morning,” McCree called from down the table.

“Excuse me, _vaquero,”_ Reyes said, “Between Ashe’s pop queen attempt coming up and a potential DJ redesign, this is the most excitement I’ve had since Oxton’s rap look last year. All we do for you is give you a hundred and fifty bucks and let you loose in a Bass Pro, you buy more jeans, maybe a new belt, and a slightly different looking plaid shirt, and you’re done. _Jack_ could pick out your clothes, Jesse.”

“Well, hey now, that’s a low blow.” McCree said, “Jack couldn’t put together a coordinated outfit if it came stapled together. Picking out plaid shirts is an art.”

Next to Reyes, Jack’s shoulders began to shake as he tried to stifle his laughter. “I’m not even involved in this argument. Why am I the one being insulted?” he said, turning to his left and looking down the table at Reyes and Jesse, “I can pick out clothes, Gabe.”

“You can pair a white shirt with blue pants like any first grader could, Jackie,” Reyes said, “But your casual outfits? Tragedies.”

Morrison’s face screwed up in insulted confusion. “Give me one example-”

Without skipping a beat, Reyes recited,“Socks with sandals, high-waisted jorts, an admittedly decent red Hawaiian shirt, which was under a horrific fishing vest, with a straw hat to top it all off.”

“When did I even-”

“Last week while you were barbecuing.” Reyes informed him, “Don’t fight me on this, John, you’ll lose.”

Morrison threw his hands up and made a sound of amused yet insulted defeat. “You help raise kids and they stab you in the back when you’re weak,” he murmured, and then snapped his fingers as another thought came to him. “That was a question we had-”

He straightened up and met Lucio’s gaze. “Pardon if this is a touchy question, but, due to prior, uh… issues, namely with McCree’s family, um, do… Prior to you signing, if you were still interested, we would like to know if you have any relatives of any kind that we should be aware of that could possibly come out of the woodwork and create problems?”

“I- What?” Before Lucio could finish, Satya cut him off.

“What sort of issues do you mean?” she asked.

“McCree’s biological father has… been a thorn in our side for a while, prior to last year where he succumbed to liver failure.” Morrison explained, “We don’t care if you do have problem relatives, we just need to know so that we can be ready.”

“No.” Lucio answered.

“No problem relatives?” Morrison asked, just to be sure, watching as Reyes began noting this information.

“No, uh, I mean, yes,” Lucio clarified, “I mean no relatives. My parents are dead and there’s no one else.”

The brief silence in the room was shattered by the sound of Reyes’ pencil snapping in two, the broken pieces clenched between his large hand.

“Gabriel,” Morrison said quietly, placing a gentle hand on his husband’s arm, “No.”

“Gabriel, yes.” Gabriel said in reply.

“Gabriel…” Morrison began, but changed his mind, returning to addressing Lucio and Satya, “Are there any questions that either of you wished to ask?”

“I have one,” Satya said immediately, “I’m afraid it’s not entirely related to your work but it’s been bothering me and I have to ask. Why neither you nor your husband nor either of your children possess the same last name? You all have different names.”

“We do.” Morrison said with a nod. “You’re right about that.”

“Foster kids chose to keep their last names, gave them a choice, it’s what they wanted,” Reyes explained, “Jack and I thought about it, but we… Gabriel Morrison sounds like a preacher character in a British drama set in a small English town where murders begin happening and you think it’s him because he’s played by a rat-looking white guy but in the second to last episode he’s found dead in the confession booth, with a letter he wrote in his pocket talking about what a scumbag he was but you’re supposed to exonerate him for his prior crimes and misdeeds because he’s dead now and then he’s never mentioned again despite the show going on for another three seasons.”

Satya paused, blinking twice as soon as he finished, “You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

“Yup,” he agreed, “And Jack Reyes doesn’t flow as well as Morrison. And we each had our own established identities in the business before we officially tied the knot, so it was easier this way to just keep our own names.”

“Juanito’s getting my last name,” McCree informed his fathers, “Lil’ Juanito McCree, my baby boy.”

“I see. That was all very informative.” she said, looking to Lucio, “Do you have any questions?”

“You said minimum creative interference,” Lucio said, “What interference do you have?”

“Oh, that’s a good one,” Morrison said, “We promote collaborations between our artists, so we might try to push a collab or two every now and then, but that’s all between you and the others mostly. Maybe the occasional interview or appearance, and working with you to schedule concerts and tours, but we’d never try to force anything.”

“Forcing artists rarely works out well,” Reyes pointed out, “Plopping an artist on a stage they don’t want to be on and forcing them to sing something they don’t want would probably be as much of a flop as a fish trying to climb a tree.”

“Ashe is currently working on a pop album,” McCree supplied helpfully, “She’s getting the lyrics down but pure pop beats are new to her, so you might think about helping her find a beat or two. We kind of do background work with each other at Overwatch, with credit of course. It’s kind of a ‘you scratch my back I’ll scratch yours’ kind of deal.”

“She’s working on a pop album?” Lucio asked.

“Electro-synth-dance-pop, more intense stuff than Lena’s light pop songs, I guess.” McCree nodded, “She just finished writing the lyrics to ‘Lost myself in the club, found myself on the dancefloor’, a working title, and her other finished song is about the perfect guy and his traits, but she ain’t gotta tune for ‘em yet. Already knows where she wants the music video, though. At the Talon Nightclub, think she’s got eyes for the owner, but you didn’t hear that from me… Anyway, you’d be perfect to help her out, maybe even do some vocals. She’d return the favor, for sure.”

Lucio debated the offer, remembering Ashe’s powerhouse vocals, and became intrigued. If he signed with Overwatch, he would have all of their artists as possibly singers for his work. They would no longer have to worry about all the red-tape and the multi-label negotiating.

This offer was sounding really promising. It was probably the best offer from the best label he was going to get. His temptation to sign the contract was growing by the minute.

He cast a look Satya’s way and was met with a soft, thoughtful expression. She could see the excitement on his face, his poker face was nonexistent, and it was clear from her expression that she was also thinking this was the one.

But, if that was the case… why did she also look sad?

“So, uh,” Lucio began, picking up the contract and rereading it, “ _IF_ I were to sign with Overwatch, I’d have access to your artists to also work on my stuff?”

“That’s right,” Morrison nodded.

“Can I negotiate with you guys at all?” he asked, surprising Satya.

“Absolutely,” Reyes said.

“So if I said I wanted to do a song with Wilhelm Reinhardt-”

“That man’s wanted to work with you since you hit the scene,” Morrison said with a laugh, “You don’t even have to ask for that. He’s-”

“Not it.” Reyes said, quickly explaining, “I’m not gonna be the one to tell him that. That man hugs like a bear and I like my lungs where they are, thank you.”

Morrison frowned in thought and then looked past Gabriel towards Jesse. Before he could speak, Jesse interrupted him.

“I ain’t doing it. I got my kid to think of,” he said, adding, “Why not ask Ana to tell him? She’s technically an owner of Overwatch Records too, she’s got twelve percent ownership, and Reinhardt would treat her like a lady.”

Morrison nodded at the idea, “We’ll ask Ana.” he said, looking back towards Lucio, “Do you have any other negotiations?”

Lucio glanced at Satya and then faced forward with a grin, “Yeah,” he said, “I do.”

\------------

So, yeah, he was with Overwatch Records now, as were the Shimadas. He could hardly believe it himself. In less than two weeks after what he had considered his farewell concert, news had broken about Vishkar’s behind the scenes and it wasn’t pretty. Allegations of abuse and all kinds of fraud had kept piling up since the story aired, with Sanjay’s parents, Vishkar’s founders and owners, getting caught right in the middle of it.

Embezzlement, tax fraud, sexual harassment, blackmail, and more. Lucio was having a hard time keeping up with it all. Every day was something new threatening to drag Vishkar out of business until the company had to start selling off assets left and right to try to stay afloat. Even if they kept their heads above water, no one would want to touch them with a ten-foot pole. They were essentially done.

The biggest thing that upset Lucio was all the people that had lost their jobs. The California location had been shut down, and the headquarters back in India was getting severely downsized. That was a lot of people that had to find new jobs. Lucio wished them all luck.

The school down in Rio was closed, but Lucio was was going to see if he could find a more wholesome way to support his community back in his home country that didn’t involve bullying children into child labor and filling their lives with anxiety and depression. The bar was so low, he would need a shovel to go under it.

The last thing he felt badly about was one of the most surprising to him. Sanjay. He actually kinda felt bad for the guy. As the only member of his family in the states, he had been shoved into trying to represent family in the best light. The family, it came out, that he hated and hated him.

\---------

He remembered the last time he had spoken to him. Satya had been helping him pack up some of his personal items that had been left in the Vishkar HQ. As they worked, they could hear Sanjay down the hall, walking around aimlessly, talking on his phone.

As the two of them sat on the floor, carefully slipping things into boxes, Sanjay paused in the door. Even though his phone wasn’t on speaker, Lucio could hear the person on the other end screaming at him.

Sanjay was trying to speak, his voice quieter than Lucio had ever heard, but he could barely get any words through the torrent of abuse being hurled at him. 

“I know, I’m trying-” he was trying to say, hands shaking as the yelling continued, “I don’t- What do you want me to do? What am I supposed to _do_?”

More screaming. Sanjay’s face crumbled, and Lucio saw Satya wince at the Hindi words flying out of his phone. He raised a brow at her, tilting his head towards Sanjay, wondering what was being said. She shook her head at him, not willing to translate any of what she was hearing, wincing as another round of insults began. It was then that they quietly decided she would take the first round of boxes down, returning as quickly as she could to help him with the last bunch. The faster they could get away from the still-talking Sanjay, the better.

“I didn’t do any of this. I had no idea that- Why did you two even do-?” the screaming grew louder, so loud the man didn’t even notice Satya walking past him down the hall. “I don’t deserve an explanation? But how am I supposed to fix-? I don’t-... What statement are you two going-?”

More screaming through the phone.

“ _You’re not making one?_ But you have to-” more screaming. “What do you mean I have to handle this myself? I- I- I- I can’t. I don’t know how to- I’m not useless, not that useless, but I’m not prepared to- You can’t just leave me to clean this up by- Wait. Wait, father, please. Please. Father. Please. _Please-”_

The person on the other end of the line hung up without a word. Sanjay stood there quietly, slowly letting his arm fall back to his side. Eyes shut, cursing under his breath, his free hand snatching at the flask in his back pocket. He tilted the silver bottle back, his head almost horizontal as he drained the rest of the almost empty bottle. His tongue stuck out of his mouth after he swallowed the last mouthful, trying to catch the last few drops dripping off of it.

Lucio had continued packing, and the sound of a pair of headphones dropping into a box startled Sanjay back to reality. His eyes snapped back open and he whipped around, staring into the room at him.

A hand shot up to his face, flicking away a tear that had begun traveling down his cheek. He glared at them as he stuffed his flask back into his pocket, lip twitching as he tried to think of something to say.

“Stop smiling-” he finally said, his voice creaking with emotion. He swallowed and spoke once more, his usual tone returning, “Stop it.”

Lucio tilted his head curiously. “I’m not smiling.” Lucio told him quietly.

“Don’t lie to me. You’re happy about this.” he hissed, “You’re happy that my life is imploding and that my family’s company is falling apart.”

“No. Not really. I feel nothing, weirdly enough,” Lucio shrugged, “But I’m not happy your life is falling apart, Sanjay.”

“I know you are-” The man spat. “You-”

“I don’t hate you, Sanjay.” Lucio told him.

The man looked at him doubtfully, “Of course you do-”

“No. I can’t say we’re the best of friends or anything, and that I would feel safe being in a room alone with you again,” Lucio explained, “But you did help me. Vishkar’s marketing has always been on-point and that’s a lot of your work, right?”

“It is.” he said slowly, quickly adding, “It _was_.”

“You’re good at that,” Lucio complimented him, piling the finished boxes into a neat stack.

“Don’t _pity_ me.” Sanjay hissed.

“Can’t help it.” Lucio shrugged as he finished packing up his pile of things, “Wouldn’t want to be in your shoes, buddy. With parents like yours, who needs enemies?”

“I-...”

Lucio stood, hoisting the stack of boxes up into his arms, deciding that they - he and Satya - were done here. “Gonna be honest, Sanjay, if anyone called me just to tear down like that, I’d stop picking up the phone.”

“What-?”

“Answering that call gives them power to control you.” Lucio said as he began to walk by Sanjay, carefully balancing the pile of boxes in his arms, “So why not take that power and control back?”

Sanjay stood there, defeated, not saying another word as Lucio walked by him. Instead, he walked towards the window and stared down at the ground below.

Even without looking, Lucio knew what was out there. Close to a hundred reporters waiting for Sanjay to exit the building and give a statement about what was happening with Vishkar, with cameras pointed at the door, ready and waiting.

He didn’t turn back as he heard the ping of an empty flask hitting the wall, or the muffled scream of panic in the room behind him. His stride didn’t break as he listened to objects being smacked off of a desk. There was a pause as he heard a sob, but he kept walking forward, the noise of a man falling to pieces his soundtrack as he pressed the down button on the elevator with his elbow.

Only when he heard the sound of the elevator ascending did he dare turn back. He did pity Sanjay. The man had always worked behind the scenes, his only public appearances at conferences and parties with other music industry moguls. Other than that, the man usually lived a pretty private life.

He had never wanted to be onstage, avoiding the spotlight when he could, but no longer. Now he was being forced to go out and speak to an audience, the world, directly, and be ready to answer unknown questions.

Whenever Lucio went out on stage, the audience knew what they were getting and they loved it. They were there for him and his music. They wanted to see him succeed and grow.

But Sanjay was already the villain, seen as the face for the plummeting company. As Vishkar fell from grace, so did he. No one was wanting to see him succeed. They wanted to watch him fail and his life be destroyed, and there was nothing that Sanjay could say that would change anything.

The world was going to watch him fall apart, and he had no one left to catch him. He had no one, his own family even abandoning him. He was going to have to face the stage alone.

That was why Lucio pitied him. He knew that fear of standing under a burning spotlight, knowing that the world was only there to watch you fall apart, and how awful it felt. The only difference was that Sanjay’s was real.

They weren’t so different, he had discovered. He had thought himself a dog leashed by Vishkar, stuck in the same yard as a free-roaming Sanjay. It turned out that Sanjay was as chained up as he was, it was just that their leashes were in range of each other, that was when Lucio had gotten hurt. When they had crossed paths and tangled each other up, that was when Sanjay had bitten him.

But now, Lucio had slipped free of his collar and escaped the yard, and could only watch as Sanjay’s family decided to be done with him, leaving him tied up tight in the barren yard, abandoning him forever, never to return.

He was watching a man succumb to a world that had turned their back on him. A man whose confidence was so shattered it was never going to be the same again, always cracked, always flawed, always second-guessing, forever leashed.

And as painful as it was to watch, there was nothing that Lucio could do. Even if there was a way to help a man who couldn’t be helped, who was crumbling as all the pressures in the world bared down on him at once, pushing him to the ground until all his strength was drained and his dreams crushed beyond recognition, he couldn’t.

Not when he had to save himself first. 

\----

Sanjay’s parents had left him out to dry, leaving him to scramble for his own legal representative for the quickly ensuing trial. He had been put on the stand day after day, and, as Lucio soon realized as he watched the televised trial, it was the first time he had actually seen the man sober.

The normal cold, mostly reserved, sometimes dangerous man was a wreck. His hands shook, his wide eyes would dart around the room, and he clothes soaked in his own sweat. One day he had had to violently vomit in a nearby trashcan, the next they had had to take a recess to try to calm down the hyperventilating man.

On the fifth day of the trial, he had cracked. He had been answering questions quietly when he had started laughing, the nervous chuckle quickly devolving into hysterical crying laughter. Medical was quickly called in, but by then Sanjay had begun to ramble aimlessly, asking aloud why he was even trying to protect his family, why was he even here, that he had no idea what had been going on behind the scenes, that they had sent him a template of answers, and that he had just realized that they were trying to pin everything on him. That they had said they would love him if he took the fall.

But they weren’t going to love him, were they? They never had. He had never met their expectations, he never would. He wasn’t smart enough, talented enough, gifted in any way. Just a waste of time. Him being born was their biggest regret. There had never been a day that went by where they hadn’t reminded him of that fact, either with their words, their fists, or the occasional rolling pin.

That they had kept pressuring him to fix the company and run it right, but they had never told him what the problems were. How could he fix what he didn’t know? It didn’t matter, though, they still called him every morning and told him what a failure he was, always scolding him for the things he had done wrong, the one’s he hadn’t done right enough. He was never going to win, was he?

“At least I wasn’t the one who destroyed the company. Only thing I destroyed was my _liver_. God, I need- I don’t want to answer the phone anymore, I don’t want to, I won’t, I won’t, I can’t, I- I- I need... I need a drink… Get me a drink and I’ll tell you everything I know and I’ll find a way to tell you everything I can’t.” he had said tiredly, speaking from a place of total defeat, “My family for a bottle of rum.”

As soon as those words left his mouth, he laughed once more, tiredly. Then he sagged in the stand, staring at the ceiling, utterly defeated, until the judge gave him mercy and let him return to his seat. There he buried his head into his arms and didn’t say another word the rest of the day, his lawyer the only one speaking from his table.

In the end, Sanjay was given a deal. He had been cooperative from that point on, giving access to anything they asked. Private emails, paperwork, texts, anything. He was proven to be completely in the dark about his family’s misconduct, pointing a solid finger at his parents, and was sentenced lightly, his punishment involving a mandatory stay at an inpatient rehab prison to help treat his alcoholism and therapy, with weekly visits from his newly-appointed parole officer, as he had no one left he could call on to vouch for him. 

Lucio couldn’t decide how he felt about the situation. Like, he had hated Sanjay, yeah, but it turns out that he had had a shitty upbringing… but he had never tried to move past it and instead decided to make everyone as miserable as him. He had let the past define him instead of trying to become someone better. If everyone did that, and stayed miserable for their whole lives, the world would kinda suck.

Still, that didn’t mean that Lucio couldn’t forgive him. In this case, he felt like if he didn’t, then he wasn’t being any better than Sanjay. Maybe, if he healed enough and found healthy ways to express his anger, he could help him get a marketing job or something somewhere down the line, because without anyone vouching, it was unlikely he was ever going to work in the industry he had spent his life in again. That was… It didn’t feel fair for him to be punished for his family’s crimes.

Maybe he would write the man a letter in a couple months after he had had time to heal, because between his family and his drinking he seemed to have lost everyone else. Maybe Jean would help him write it, as Lucio hadn’t mentioned that Sanjay had given him the black eye he would be impartial. 

Better to forgive and forget than to be bitter and dwell-

“What’cha thinking about?” Olivia asked, glancing up from her phone, motioning under her chin. “You were going on a face journey.”

He hesitated a moment. “Sanjay.” he admitted, “Just thinking back to the trial-”

“Don’t worry about him anymore. He has no power any more, he can’t hurt you.” she said, “Don’t let him live rent-free in your head. Don’t you have better things to think about?”

Lucio slowly dragged his eyes from her face to the recording booth window, where he watched Jean-Baptiste attempt to psyche himself up, stretching and trying to loosen tense muscles. 

“Yeah,” he said with a smile, watching as his boyfriend hopped up and down nervously on socked feet, “I do.”

\-----

Jean-Baptiste had helped Lucio unpack his things into his new condo in New York City. They had been sitting on the floor after a hard day of moving and building furniture, sorting through the loose papers that Lucio had thrown into a box. 

Digging through the pile, Lucio had found the song he had written for Jean to sing. He had reread the lyrics, replayed the chords he had written in his head, and smiled. He had glanced over the top of the paper, sneaking a peek at Jean, before he had turned to set the papers to the side.

Baptiste had seen that look, though, and asked what it was about. Lucio’s first thought had been to brush it off and say that it was nothing. Jean would have respected that if he said it.

But they were both working on growing into better people, and for Lucio that meant daring to open up about this part of his life to Jean. He held the paper out for Jean to take and read, and as the man’s eyes scanned over Lucio’s handwriting, Lucio confessed what it was; the song he had written specifically for Jean’s voice, the reason they had even met face-to-face.

He ended up telling him the whole story, from the first time he had seen Jean sing at the Lounge, to having to go back there and see if his voice had really been that gorgeous. How the whole reason he had been there was to scout Jean and offer him a job singing the track, but he had been distracted by how pretty and nice Baptiste had been to actually ask the question.

 _“_ You sing good. Real good.” Baptiste had said, leaning back on his hands, “That’s what you said to me. And something about how it was so beautiful you had to come back and see if it was all just a dream. I remember that. You were blushing as you said it.”

“Oh gosh, was I?” Lucio could feel his face growing hot as he thought back to that night.

“Red as a tomato!” Jean laughed. “Walking up and complimenting me like that, and you were the one blushing… I thought you were adorable.”

“Hey-”

“I can’t believe Olivia picked you up and asked you out on a date for me.” Jean had admitted, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’m the one that should be embarrassed.”

Lucio’s eyes had widened at his confession. “She what? Wait. Wait. She asked me to go clubbing with you two because- it was a date!?”

“That’s why she left us alone, Lu. So we could get to know each other, as best one can on a noisy club dancefloor.”

“Oh my God.” Lucio’s face burned, “I thought it was just to dance-”

“Well, it was, and we did,” Baptiste assured him, “She knows how useless I am at flirting with strangers, and it had been a while since my last actual relationship, and he asked me out, and she could see something in my eyes, she said, how I was looking at you-” he swallowed nervously, “We’re each other’s wingmen, or woman rather, but she just took the captain’s chair and chartered the plane for me that time.”

Baptiste grew silent a moment, before he continued.

“All those little things that had to go right so that I was blessed with the chance to meet you. You seeing me, the timing, your determination, Olivia’s push, you giving me a chance… your song. How did I get so lucky?” he said, picking up the paper and rereading the words, “Would you explain it to me? The lyrics?”

He held the papers out for Lucio to take back, but Lucio didn’t need to. He knew the words by heart.

“The first verse was just something that I wanted to hear you sing in your gorgeous voice, what I wanted to hear you say to me. I kinda got a crush on you the first time I saw you, um, yeah.” he said nervously, “The second was because you were a nurse, the cure, and it was how I felt after we split. Chest aching because I left my heart in New York.”

He watched as Jean read over the lyrics as he spoke, mouth moving silent as he said the words to himself.

“The last two verses were things that you had said to me. I don’t know if you remember, but I do.” he confessed, “It was written with you in mind-”

“Would you play the music for me?” Jean asked, “Please? I don’t know how to read music and I’d love to hear it as the song it was meant to be.”

Lucio didn’t need to be asked twice. His keyboard had already been unpacked, so he left to go grab it and haul it back to their spot on the floor. He laid it down on the floor, and plugged it into a nearby outlet.

Legs crossed, his notes turned for him to read, he began to play. His fingers danced lightly, his eyes glued to the paper as he didn’t dare look up Jean’s way as he played the music and quietly, nervously sang the chorus of his song.

As he finished playing, he dared to look up at Jean. The man’s eyes were damp, but there was a smile on his lips.

“That’s my song? The melody is so beautiful, _o bonte mwen.”_ he met Lucio’s nervous gaze and smiled reassuringly, “I’m trying not to cry, Lucio, but only because I’m flattered and honored. You wrote a song like that with me in mind, and you’re so talented, and I-...Wow.”

“You’re officially the third person who knows about the song. The first two being me and Satya,” Lucio told him. “Don’t worry, it’s gonna stay that way. This song was written for your voice only, no one else’s.”

Baptiste had tilted his head in thought after Lucio spoke, “I have a question, and I hope it doesn’t come off the wrong way,” he began, “You said you came back to New York City to ask me to sing your song, but you never did. Might I ask why?”

“I asked about music in general, and you said you didn’t like to mix your work and your hobbies, so that you have your escapes. You don’t like being on stage, in the spotlight.” Lucio answered. “I wanted to respect that. I was worried that if I asked, you would say yes even if you didn’t want to, because it was me asking. It wouldn’t have been fair to put that pressure on you.”

“Ah, I see. Thank you for respecting that.” Jean said softly, “And that came at the cost of your song never seeing the light of day.”

“I would rather it be that way than ever let anyone else sing it.” Lucio replied.

“It’s a shame, such a pretty song…” he paused in thought, “You know, I’ve only ever liked performing in front of a small audience-”

“I know-”

“And an audience of one or two or three would be manageable-”

Lucio’s brows knit together. “Meaning?”

“If _you_ were to be the only listening, at least at first, then _maybe_ I could be persuaded to sing.” he said with a smile and a wink.

Lucio’s heart stopped for a moment in his chest. “Wait, are you saying that you would actually consider-”

“Mmm hmm.” he said with a slow nod. “But! It would just be for your ears… I owe this song so much. Singing it for you, letting you hear the song you’ve dreamed about, that brought us together, it’s the least I could do.” 

“Do you really mean that?” Lucio asked excitedly.

He nodded, “Whenever you have time to patiently work with me on it because I’ve never done this before, we can try. I know you’re quite busy at the moment working on your album.”

“I can get the music arranged and get that all done in no time. That’s the easy part.” Lucio assured him, “What else?”

“Hmm, we _have_ to make those _Pao de Queijos_ , those little cheese breads from Rio, that you’ve raved so much about.”

“Okay, we totally will,” Lucio said with a smile, “And…?”

“And maybe try _asking_ me if I would be interested in singing your song.” Baptiste said, “Ask me that question that you’ve waited so long for.”

Grin on his lips, Lucio took a deep breath and finally let himself dare to dream that this fantasy of his, one he had long given up on, was about to become a reality.

\---

And that’s why they were here now. Baptiste was standing in front of the microphone in the recording booth, getting himself ready to try singing again. He had practiced with Lucio enough that he knew the melody and the beat to follow, but it was trying to get him to relax that was the hardest part.

The last try he had actually even begun to relax, but his sneakers squeaked on the floor, which was picked up by the microphone, and the try had to be scrapped. He had asked for a short break and taken his shoes off, and now he was finishing pumping himself up. 

Though they had been at the studio for about two hours now, the first half had been about giving Jean a tour and explaining how this part of his world worked. 

Baptiste adored learning, and the moment he had found out that music was Lucio's passion and career, he had begun educating himself on the topic so that Lucio could excitedly ramble about what he had been working on and Baptiste could understand and converse with him about it.

The last hour had been spent working with Jean on the vocals, coaching and trying to help him with this whole process, making sure they got a few usable recordings out of the session.

Baptiste looked towards the window, and gave Lucio a small wave and a smile. Olivia leaned forward and pressed a button on the console, turning on their microphone.

“You ready to try again, Bap?” she asked, getting a confident nod in reply. She began pressing buttons on the control panel, setting them up for another go at it. “Cool, cool. Queuing up the music. Starting thirty seconds before vocals. Annnnd start-”

Lucio and Olivia tugged their headphones back on properly, and they and Jean pressed a hand to their headphones, listening to the music play. Lucio watched as Jean nervously bounced on his socked feet, barely daring to dance. As his cue came near, he steadied himself, closed his eyes, and sang.

His voice was like that of an angel, and listening to it over his music with studio headphones was an actual ear orgasm. It was smooth, melodic, soulful, more beautiful than he had ever imagined it could be.

While he was tempted to shut his eyes and lose himself to the music, he resisted. Instead he let himself watch Jean singing in the sound booth under the fluorescent lights, taking in every second of this once-in-a-lifetime view.

Far too soon, it was all over. As soon as Olivia cut the music, Jean looked at them through the soundproof glass, waiting for input. Olivia held up a finger and replayed the recording for her and Lucio to listen to once more.

“You’re smiling,” she teased after the recording finished. “This everything you ever wanted?”

“That and more,” Lucio replied with a happy laugh. He could hardly believe it. His song, written for Jean’s voice, now existed in the real world. It was no longer a dream he had shoved into the back of his mind. It was real, and it was so, so, _so_ close to completion.

Looking back into the booth, his eyes met Jean’s. The man was staring at him with barely bridled anticipation, and gave Lucio a questioning thumbs-up. Was that the one?

Lucio gave him a double thumbs-up in return. The take was good. He was done.

Permission now granted, Baptiste picked up his sneakers and exited the booth. Poking his head out the door, he asked, just to be sure. “Was that all I had to do?”

“Yeah,” Lucio called over to him. “We got the vocals we need for mixing.”

“That wasn’t so bad. I could do that again,” Baptiste admitted as he stepped out of the booth and walked over to their setup. “What’s mixing mean?”

Olivia filled him in. “The song will need to be mixed and mastered before it’s done, clean some things up, not too much though. It should only take a couple hours, at the most, The song’s pretty straight forward, not too bass-heavy, so balancing won’t be as much of a headache.”

“So does that mean that you and Lu need to keep working?” Baptiste asked slowly, “Because-”

“Lucio’s given me his notes, we’ve talked about the preferred result, I think I can pull it together without him,” she told him, then looking towards Lucio, “Every file is gonna be copied, nothing will be saved over, so you can try mixing and mastering on your own if I don't hit the notes you want, alright?”

“Yeah, okay.” Lucio said, slowly standing, “Are you sure you don’t mind working on this? It’s a lot-”

“Yeah, it is, but I’m a sweet girl with absolutely no ulterior motives of any kind to sitting here and working on it for a few hours,” she said, blinking innocently. “I mean, that’s assuming that our lunch order gets here soon…”

As if right on cue, the trio heard the sound of the studio’s back door being unlocked, then locked, and the faint tap of heeled boots walking down the hall. They smelled the food before they saw it, the fragrant scent wafting down the hall and collectively making their hungry mouths water.

The door to the room was carefully opened, and Satya stepped inside as quietly as she could, turning and silently shutting the door before she even looked the group’s way. Her eyes widened at the sight of Jean outside of the booth. “Are you done? Or are you taking a break for lunch?”

Baptiste held his hands up innocently. “The sound wizards said I was free to exit the room.” he told her.

“We got the take,” Olivia proudly told her, spinning her chair around to face Satya, “You should stick around for lunch and let me replay it for you…”

If Lucio had been looking Olivia’s way, he would have seen her smile and wink at Satya, but he hadn’t been. Instead, his eyes were locked onto his new Overwatch Records manager. 

She had been let go from Vishkar in the midst of the cuts and had been hired right alongside Lucio at the meeting, her coming along with him as his manager being one of his few negotiations he had made with both her and Overwatch Records, with Reyes and Morrison allowing her to negotiate her own contract.

If she hadn’t been offered a job, and they hadn’t let Lucio negotiate to bring her along, he wasn’t sure that he would have signed the contract with them, despite how wonderful the opportunity would have been. It wouldn’t have felt right to ever have anyone else standing in her spot, doing her job instead. Satya was his manager, but she was also his family, always and forever. Family wasn’t left behind.

“I have everyone’s orders from the Echo Lounge,” she said, reading the receipt and holding up the to-go bags, boxes, and drink holder “One fried pork tenderloin sandwich with a side of rosemary potatoes and a side of creamed corn, one pesto chicken panini with a full dressed baked potato, jasmine rice, with an order of the housemade chips, one Jack Daniels chicken sandwich with a roasted veggie medley, a half order of chicken avocado caprese salad, and two sides of fries, and one roasted vegetable pita with an avocado spread, a side of falafels, and half a waldorf salad. I pray that’s all correct. I'm not walking back if it's not.”

“Sounds right to me,” Lucio replied, looking between Olivia and Jean, who both nodded in agreement. “Thanks for picking that up.”

“Not a problem at all.” she assured him, placing the items down on a nearby table and separating them by order.

“I missed Echo’s food.” Baptiste admitted, “I haven’t quite got the gumption to step back into there yet, but maybe soon. I hear they miss me and the food is always so good.”

“Pfft, of course they do.” Olivia said, blowing a raspberry, “You were a good little worker who did everything that was asked to the most perfect degree, you were great with customers, a great co-worker. Their loss.”

Jean had told Lucio that not one week after he had been fired, the famed and revered chef-owner herself, Mina Liao, had called Jean’s phone personally. She had been quite apologetic about the fiasco that had left him jobless, informed him she had disciplined the manager who was now on her last strike, and had offered him his old job back with a three dollar an hour raise. 

Apparently she had heard what had happened after the Lounge had a rough St. Patrick’s day night, and was trying to right the wrongs. She informed him that she did some undercover dining at her own establishment to evaluate employees and that he was always given high-praise for his work ethic and customer skills.

She was a nice lady, even after Jean informed her that he wasn’t interested in getting his job back and that he had other plans he was working on. She said that she understood, gave him a two-hundred dollar gift card to The Echo along with his tip money, she would give him glowing reviews whenever he needed, thanked him for the time that he worked there, and he was more than welcome to stop by anytime for a meal on the house. He had yet to take up that offer, not ready to face his old co-workers quite yet.

“Why don’t you two go get some fresh air and eat at the park?” Olivia said, 

Lucio looked between the other three people. “I-” he paused, realizing how nice it sounded to go sit out in the warm sun, “That be okay, Satya?”

“It would be fine. I trust Jean to watch out for you. Just remember your sunglasses and hat, Lucio.” she nodded. “No reason to flaunt yourself.”

“Right.” he then looked back towards Jean-Baptiste, “You want to eat at the park?”

“I’d love to.” Baptiste said, carefully making his way over to the table and picking up his and Lucio’s food and drinks.

Teeth biting down on his lip, he turned to face Olivia. “You sure you don’t mind us leaving you here?” he asked unsurely, “I mean, I feel kinda bad making you work on this while we leave, I could stay-”

“No. No no no, don’t you worry your pretty little head about this,” Olivia insisted, shooing him upright, “Satya will be keeping me company while we eat and I work. Offering advice, helping me out, relieving each other’s stress, you know.”

Satya nodded politely in agreement, pulling her metal straw out of her purse and putting it in her drink.

“Besiiiiiides, you work too hard. Go relax. Go go go,” she said, “Don’t even think about us. Satya will text if we have any questions. Go. Shoo. Go eat before your food gets cold. Enjoy each other’s company.”

Lucio’s one moment of hesitation as he stood - he wasn’t used to other people wanting to do his work - was met with Jean looping an arm over his shoulder and walking him outside, bidding Olivia and Satya goodbye as they left. 

As Lucio glanced over his shoulder to wave at them, he saw Satya pull an additional take-out box out of her large purse. He recognized the name on the box as the cookiewich bakery. Why would Satya have stopped-

Hmm, now that he thought about it, a dessert did sound good. Maybe he could talk Jean into stopping by the bakery after they ate, assuming he still had room for it. Maybe he would order a cookiewich to go for himself, with a bottle of water so he didn’t choke on cream filling.

Jean carried their food in one hand, having given Lucio the drinks to hold after he had pulled his baseball cap and sunglasses on, and rested his other arm over Lucio’s shoulders as they walked. The park was only a short walk away and it was fairly empty. They sat at a picnic table that was shaded by a nearby tree and spread out their lunch.

Jean pulled his phone out of his pocket and set it on the table. He had upgraded recently, not trusting his water-logged phone to not betray him and die suddenly. Olivia had helped him transfer all his files and Lucio had gifted him a military-grade waterproof phone case. It could survive a tank being run over it and being submerged in the ocean for twelve hours. Baptiste’s title of Destroyer-of-Phones was now at risk and his bad luck would really have to up its game to ruin this phone.

“I hope you don’t mind the phone being out.” he said apologetically, “I’m waiting on a call…”

“Oh, uh, you mean the, ah… the lady?” Lucio stumbled, snapping his fingers as he tried to remember her name, “The one we met at the international food shop?” he finished, with Baptiste nodding in reply.

"Ziegler." Baptiste helpfully supplied, eyes looking up to the right as he remembered the meeting, "Dr. Angela Ziegler."

\------

Lucio and Baptiste had been out on the town two weeks ago, with Jean taking him to some of his favorite stores once more. They had been at the small international market when a distracted blonde woman, reading a shopping list, nearly walked into the pair.

“Pardon me, please, I’m so sorry, I should have been looking where I was going,” she began immediately apologizing, pausing as her eyes landed on Jean, “Augustin? Jean-Baptiste!”

“Dr. Ziegler?” Baptiste replied with an excited smile, arms opening up for a hug. The slender woman wrapped her arms around him, giving him an affection squeeze, “How’s the hospital life been?”

“As exhausting as always!” she said with a laugh, gesturing to the boxes of tea and the bottle of brandy in her basket. “Look at you, you look great. You haven’t aged a day!”

“I could say the same to you, Angela.” he looked down at Lucio, “Lu, this is Angela Ziegler. She's one of the head doctors at my old hospital, head of surgery as well, an absolutely brilliant woman, a real angel. Angela, this Lu, my partner and soulmate, the love of my life.”

Lucio looked over the woman. She was tall, thin, with her blonde hair tossed up into a messy ponytail. She wore a baggy, crew-necked peach-colored tunic that was tucked into black slacks. A heavy-looking messenger bag was slung over her shoulders, with a forest green utility jacket hanging on the strap.

“You’re some kind of angel yourself, Augustin.” she said, shaking Lucio’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lu.” Mid-pump, she paused staring at his face. “You look familiar…” Now that she pointed it out, she looked kind of familiar to Lucio too.

Her eyes widened and she pulled her hand free, snapping her fingers as she thought of the answer. “Late November, early December.” she murmured to herself before she straightened back up and smiled at them.

She then planted a hand on her cocked hip. “Where on earth did you disappear to, Jean-Baptiste?”

“Oh, I didn’t disappear really-” Baptiste said, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“I leave for a three month stint in international medical humanitarian aid to Egypt one time and I come back and one of my best nurses has vanished.” she countered, “You dropped off the planet for the last two years, Augustin. I was worried about you. Was everything okay?”

Jean shrugged, sparing an unsure glance at Lucio before he confessed. “Burnout. The French Guiana trip was exhausting on its own, but I had nothing left before it. I got tired.” he admitted. “I needed a break-”

“Everyone does.” she assured him. “What have you been up to?”

“Oh, I worked a few jobs between then and now-” 

“But at the moment-?” she prompted.

“At the moment, nothing. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking actually, and you’re actually the perfect person to run into,” Baptiste said, much to Lucio’s surprise. Not that Baptiste had been thinking, but about how he hadn’t mentioned this before now, “I’ve been entertaining the idea of returning to the medical field, but I don’t know how to get back in.”

That was all news to Lucio. Good news! Baptiste had mentioned off-handedly how bored he was without a job, how he felt like he should be doing something, but he didn’t know what. Maybe he had figured something out after all.

She looked at him excitedly, but kept her voice calm as she spoke. “You’ve been out two years, yes?”

“Give or take. Less than three.”

“Have you been keeping your license current?”

“I have been paying for it every year, yes.”

“It’s been under five years so you don’t have to rely on the board for reinstatement, that’s good,” she commented idly, “They may insist you take a refresher course, however. That should be it at the most. Did you have a type of clinic that you were considering? Not back to the ER, I take it?”

“No, I’m sorry. Not the ER. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to go back there.” he confessed, “I was wondering if you knew anyone looking to hire-”

“Actually, Jean-Baptiste, I do.” she replied with a knowing grin.

Jean bounced on his toes excitedly. “Who?”

“Me.” she said, putting her basket on the floor and opening up her messenger bag. She began digging around and Lucio couldn’t help but marvel at how much of a disaster zone the bag was. Loose papers, pens, pencils, protein bars, galore.

Jean smiled hesitantly, watching her rummage through her bag. “I’m really not interested in going back to the hospital unless it’s in one of the less hectic wards and maybe even not then-”

“No, not the hospital.” she said, holding up a folded-open notebook for him to see, full of messily written notes and drawings. She really was a doctor. “I’ve been going through the long, tedious process of opening up my own practice and I’ll be needing to hire soon.”

Baptiste looked at her curiously. “Your own practice?”

“Yes. Caduceus Care, a family care clinic will prioritize low-income families. It will be on this side of town, near here actually. I closed on a building last year and it’s nearly done being renovated,” she informed him, “You’re not the only one who needs to step away from the ER, Augustin. I’ve asked for my hours to be cut at the hospital so I can focus on my passion project: ensuring that the people here don’t have to debate between buying groceries or getting a check-up.”

“A family care clinic on this side of town?” he asked breathlessly, “No specialties or emergency care?”

“I’m certain emergency cases will walk in the door at some point, but I’ve already established a direct line to my hospital so that, if they do, we can ensure swift and proper care.”

“And it will be funded adequately?” he asked hesitantly, “It won’t be the French Guiana again, where there were so many people we couldn’t do anything for-”

“I’m funding the practice myself, along with grants I’ve written for and received.” she said brightly. “I don’t care for bragging, but I will say that I’ve been quite blessed monetarily over the last few years. Not to mention I finally received the payout for my parents wrongful death case from two decades ago after they reopened it with new evidence. That’s money I don’t want to use on me. I don’t even want to look at it. So I want to put it to use to help people and pray that it does something to ease the pain one day. Money will be of no concern.”

“Could you give me your phone number?” he asked quickly, “So that we can talk later? I need to think.”

“Of course, take as long as you need,” she said, tearing a corner off one of her many pieces of paper in her bag, and quickly writing down her number, “And not to pressure you one way or another, just something to put out there, if you did, I would be willing to help you however I could if you would be willing to return to school and work towards becoming a nurse practitioner.”

“A nurse practitioner?” Baptiste repeated, seeing the confusion on Lucio’s face. “Nurses work under doctors and do the preemptive analysis, and a lot of hands on work, but nurse practitioners do diagnoses of acute or chronic conditions, and see their own patients, order labwork, prescribe medications… Higher than a nurse, lower than a doctor basically.”

Angela nodded at his explanation. “That’s why I would be interested in you getting your masters, so that you can take on patients of your own.” she explained, “I’ve yet to meet anyone interested in leaving their _prestigious_ clinics to join Caduceus, and I’m being a tad picky about who I ask.”

“Who are you skipping over?”

“O'Deorain for one,” she said with a frown, nearly spitting out the name. Jean shuddered at the name. Lucio got the feeling that the less he knew about this O'Deorain, the better. “At the moment, I’m the only doctor, and I will only be part time between there and the hospital, and there’s two other nurses who will be joining once they’re back from their graduation celebrations trips, plus two front desk employees that I’ve hired to be ready by opening day. Having a nurse practitioner would help immensely, you see. It’s always good to have backup.”

“I do see.” Baptiste nodded thoughtfully. “You know I’m always glad to lend you a hand.”

“And you could pick your specialization, whatever you have a passion for,” she said, “Family care, pediatric care, mental health, adult gerontological, or... woman’s health if you really wanted to specialize.”

“I could do pediatric care…I could work with kids again,” he said excitedly, “I could-... _o Bondye.”_

“Well, think about it. Take as long as you need. Don’t rush into anything you don’t want to, Augustin. Keep in mind, though, you could pick your schedule, have weekends off if you wanted as long as you’re hitting a minimum of forty hours, and it’s full benefits,” she said chipperly, tucking her things back in her bag and picking up her basket, “It was wonderful to see you again. Feel free to call me with any questions you think of.”

“Of course, yes, thank you. I will absolutely keep you and this opportunity in mind,” he said quickly, nodding excitedly, “It would be good to be working with you again, Dr. Ziegler.

“I feel the same, Augustin, you were always one the best nurses on the floor. And it would be under better, calmer circumstances too.” she pointed out, continuing to walk down the aisle, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m on a quest to locate _all_ the Swiss Chocolate they have in this store. Today has been a day.”

Jean pointed over his shoulder and to the right. “Two aisles over.”

“Bless you, Augustin.” she said, waving back to them, “ _uf Widerluege,_ Jean-Baptiste, Lu.”

At the mention of his name, Lucio turned and waved goodbye in return. His hand paused midwave as his eyes landed on Dr. Ziegler’s back. Her shirt was lowcut in the back, revealing her skin down to the middle of her back. On her shoulders, down to midback were tattooed two angel wings, the details in the feathers impressive. There were two names written next to each wing, names that Lucio was unable to read as they were cut off by the fabric of her shirt. If he was to guess, though, he would say those were the names of her parents, each getting their own wing.

His attention was swiftly brought back to Baptiste as the man’s hand clamped down tightly on his shoulder. He was trembling, Lucio could feel the vibrations down his back, and he turned to comfort Jean.

Instead of a look of nervousness that he had been expecting, Baptiste was grinning broadly. He was shaking in excitement at the conversation, at the possibilities laid out before him. Without a word being said it was clear.

The opportunity of a lifetime, the job of his dreams, had just bumped into him. Of course, he was already knew what his answer was going to be:

Yes!

\----

As he and Lucio sat and ate, talking about the image revamp that Lucio had been working on with Reyes, a green tank with his logo, jeans, and skates for more casual appearances, and a cool green and blue, and black-accented, gloved futuristic getup for shows, with both looks being complemented with green-tinted, frameless sunglasses, Jean’s phone buzzed briefly.

Their eyes met for a brief moment before Jean reached for the phone and turned it on, eyes scanning the screen. As he read whatever was there, he immediately relaxed. A chuckle escaped him, shoulders bouncing once as he laughed, his eyes darting up to Lucio and then back to his phone.

Lucio knew that laugh, the sound of amusement, and had to know more. “What’s up?” he asked.

“Well, as it turns out,” he began, turning his phone around for Lucio to see, “I’m dating one of the sexiest men in music.”

“What?” Lucio asked as he leaned forward to read what was on Jean’s phone. Olivia had texted him a screenshot of a list from The Birling Pip - the biggest entertainment magazine in the world - on the sexiest men in music in no particular order.

She had drawn on the photo, circling Lucio (who was fourth on the page) and her foster brother Jesse McCree, who was at the top. He motioned for the phone and Jean let him hold it, allowing him to read the article.

McCree had placed first - Lucio wasn’t surprised about that, the man was a big, handsome teddy bear and the picture of him feeding Juanito had been posted, the sight of a muscular man doing something so soft winning people over instantly - and to his delight, Genji, and his brother Hanzo, had also made the list. 

The article cited the sensuality Genji possessed as he flirted with the audience, his easy-going personality, and how he wasn’t shy about showing a little skin. Who didn’t love a good flirt? 

Hanzo’s quiet demeanor combined with his dangerous sharp good looks, thick muscles, and his fiery dance style (even if he didn’t grace the stage any longer) were all sexy traits. Everyone loved a bad boy with a heart of gold.

Third on the page was another group. All three of the male members from the K-Pop Group XOXO Force had been ranked together, with the writer finding it too difficult to just pick one of them. All together it was.

Then in fourth down was Lucio himself. The picture that had been picked for him was the smiling, crying headshot from the infamous concert, the one where he had unmasked himself live on stage. That picture had been everywhere ever since the concert. Thank goodness he hadn’t made a weird face.

The article listed his smile as his sexiest trait, calling it an ever-present blessing to the world that shone as bright as a spotlight. His personality, according to the article, was as warm and fuzzy as a herd of ducklings in a pool of sunshine, his sense of humor sharp, not to mention all the charity he sent back home to Rio and the support he gave to the LGBT community, being an out and proud gay or bi icon (because he had mentioned having a boyfriend during a recent interview about his vocals on Ashe’s song about finding the perfect guy, but had given no other details. Baptiste was fine with the world generally knowing about him as long as it wasn’t specific).

They mentioned what a sight it was to see Lucio’s true self coming out to play ever since he had left Vishkar. Comparing his interviews now with his old ones was night and day. Real talk, the author wrote, the moment he had taken his helmet off he had shaken off the chains and become someone new, someone bright, someone fantastic, someone… 

_Sexy._

He skimmed over the rest of the list, looking for names he recognized. Gérard Lacroix, the famed ballet dancer had was on the page as was Wilhelm Reinhardt, a big, gentle “sweethardt.”

Bob, from The Do Something’s, had made the list. The article said that, if Lucio was any indication of how handsome the men that hid themselves under helmets were, the world was not ready for the gentle giant Bob’s face reveal. One handsome man unmasking themself and blowing everyone’s minds was enough for this year. Maybe next year, Bob? (wink)

Siebren de Kuiper was there as well. They noted how sensual his conducting was, with his long, slender fingers grasping the conducting baton, his quirky personality, his dedication to making the world of classical music accessible to all, especially children, and his penchant for wearing fuzzy sweaters and not wearing shoes or socks unless he ABSOLUTELY had to, leaving his huge feet bare (if you were into that).

Quickly finishing the article, Lucio held Jean’s phone out to him, who stopped eating and wiped his hand on his pants before he took it back. “I cannot believe I made a list like that,” he confessed, “I mean, I know it’s a pointless list, but-”

“But you’re blushing,” Jean pointed out affectionately, as he put his phone back down on the table. “I can believe you made the list.”

“Really?” Lucio asked with a tilt of his head.

“Mmm hmm. You don’t see the beautiful sweet man I see and love. You only see the you you’ve always known, not the you you've become.

Maybe one day you’ll see yourself like I do, but until then I’ll be here to remind you of it.” Baptiste said with a slow nod, “And, she’s right, you’re so positive, you’re always smiling and it’s always adorable.”

“I’m not-” Lucio paused as he realized that he was smiling. He purposely frowned and continued. “I’m not always smiling.”

Jean didn’t hesitate. “Frog riding a turtle’s back across a lake.” he said.

Lucio gasped excitedly as he pictured the scene. “Oh! They’re friends.” he said with a smile. His mouth twitched momentarily as he realized that his lips had upturned themselves once more. “… Maybe I am always smiling.”

“And, I, and the world, love you for it.” Jean assured him. “Never stop being you, Sunshine.”

“I mean, I don’t plan on ever stopping-” Lucio’s phone buzzed and he pulled it out and read the text. “I-...Oh.”

“Oh?” Jean inquired.

“Satya and Olivia have officially kicked us out of the studio for the day. Mandatory relaxation has been imposed on the both of us.” Lucio read the message from Satya aloud, “Further communication about the mixing and mastering will take place tomorrow once a first take has been completed.”

“Mandatory relaxation? That’s so much pressure,” Jean joked, rubbing at the back of his neck. “So, um, are you free for the rest of the day, Lucio? We could hang out. If you wanted. I know you’ve been busy with work and all-”

“Absolutely! Please, yes, let’s.” Lucio said, resuming eating his meal, “Take the lead, Baptiste. Plan out how you want to spend the rest of the day. You know New York better than I do.”

“Ah, that I can do.” he said as he drank his unsweetened iced tea, “How about we go to Rockefeller Center? The Channel Gardens are _lovely_ this time of year.”

“That sounds like fun.” Lucio said, adding with a laugh, “And, bonus, there’s no ice skating for you to worry about.”

“Yeah, I think I had enough ice skating to last me until next December.” Jean agreed, “But, we could get _ice_ cream after we walk around for a bit, I’m craving some sugar as a reward for today’s effort. Maybe we hit the observation deck? The view up there is astounding.”

And so, once they were done eating, they spent the rest of the day on a mandatory relaxation date, with Jean taking Lucio around the town. The last stop they made was to a cute ice cream shop they found while walking around called Mei’s Blizzard Bites. The variety of flavors was intense, but at least the sweet brunette behind the counter let them sample as many as they wanted before they had to decide.

It wasn’t until the sun began to set, eating their ice cream on their walk back towards the park, the halfway point between their apartments, that Jean’s phone rang. 

He immediately stopped walking, whipped it out of his pocket, looked at the caller, and then held his half-finished coffee and chocolate chip dish of ice cream for Lucio, who had been eating some mango ice cream, to hold as he answered the call.

“Hello? This is Augustin speaking.” he said, straightening up despite the person on the other end being unable to see him. “Yes? Uh huh? And?”

Lucio waited, holding his breath. This was the call he had been waiting for all day. He and Angela had gone to speak to the NY Nursing Board yesterday, about his returning to the field. There was a chance that they would let him start immediately, but also a chance they would insist on him taking a refresher course, which would be three grand (which Lucio would totally pay for for him, if Jean would let him), and 16 weeks of classes that he wouldn’t be able to take until the fall semester.

He said that they had done some subtle quizzing of him right then and there and that he had been able to answer all their questions easily. He had learned everything through nursing school, he hadn’t just memorized it for the tests. He was confident that he was still competent, but wouldn’t fight the refresher course if they deemed it necessary.

If it was necessary, though, Angela would have to find someone else to work at the clinic until he was allowed back on the floor. He had already taken some of the Masters classes he needed to be a Nurse Practitioner while in school, loading on too many classes at the time, before he dropped out of his masters program and committed himself to the ER. Storybrook College, his old school, would grandfather his credits in, cutting two semesters off of his projected timeline to earn his next degree.

It all came down to what the Board had decided at their meeting tonight. Whether or not Jean was able to start the job of his dreams or if it would slip through his fingers at the last second.

“-...Thank you. I appreciate you calling me with the information tonight. It is quite late,” he said calmly, his voice so even that Lucio had no idea if he was happy or sad, “Alright, I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you. Goodbye.”

Lucio watched as Baptiste slowly pulled the phone away from his ear, as he pressed a button to hang up, and then silently slipped his phone into his pocket. His arms fell by his sides, he tilted his head back, and let out a loud sigh.

Slowly, he looked back at Lucio over his shoulder, a smile on his lips. “I don’t have to take the course,” he said as he turned to face Lucio properly, “My license is still good. I was under the three-year mark. That’s the cut-off before the course is mandatory.”

“Which means?” Lucio prompted excitedly.

“I’m still a nurse!” Jean exclaimed as he stepped forward and scooped Lucio up in a bear hug, spinning him around once before setting him back down on the ground, and excitedly clasping his hands on Lucio’s shoulders “I can work at Caduceus immediately, as soon as it's open, and… I could be a nurse practitioner by next year. Before next year if I get in on the summer course. By.. By the end of the year. Lucio, I- I could really- I-”

“Yeah?” Lucio asked, smiling widely as he watched his soulmate positively glow with happiness.

“I really want to kiss you.” Baptiste said breathlessly, “Can I kiss you?”

“You really need to ask?” Lucio barely finished the question before Jean pulled him into a deep kiss, with Lucio carefully balancing their ice cream in his hands, briefly making out with him before he stopped himself.

“It’s getting late. I should get you back to your condo.” Jean-Baptiste said, pausing, “Or do you want to go to mine and spend the night?”

“Yours.” Lucio replied with no hesitation.

Jean quickly added, “I could spend the night at your place, like I have been.” 

Jean had been dropping by with dinner, or to just hang out on some evenings as Lucio threw himself into working on his next album. The burst of creativity he had been having was the best in years and he had been making the most of it, and Jean’s continued presence at his condo had been a blessing he adored. As soon as Lucio finished working, they would make dinner together, talk, and then lay down together, sometimes sleeping sometimes not.

“I want to go to yours. I’ve missed the apartment.” Lucio told him definitively, “My condo’s nice, but it doesn’t feel like home yet, not the way that your place always has.”

“Oh, well, I won’t argue,”Jean began with a smile, looking Lucio up and down, “My place it is then.”

They finished up their ice cream on the way back and threw away the cups. As they walked, Lucio couldn’t stop himself from looking over his boyfriend, admiring how gorgeous and smart and nice he was and, goddamn, those huggable arms of his. Suddenly, growing warm as he eyed his boyfriend, he found himself wishing that they were already at Jean’s apartment.

As they neared his building, Lucio asked, “Jean? Can I put something in your pocket?”

“Sure,” Baptiste said, holding out his hand for whatever Lucio needed him to take. Instead, Lucio reached around him and slipped his hand into Jean’s back pocket, giving his bottom a squeeze.

The man jumped at first, but relaxed after only a moment. “Oh,” he said knowingly, as he led Lucio up the stairs to his building’s door, “In the mood to _dance_ tonight?”

“Yeah,” Lucio confessed, watching as he slowly - far too slowly - pulled out his keys from his front-facing fanny pack and unlocked the front door. “You?”

“I’d love to tango with you,” he said, pausing at the foot of the stairs so that Lucio could retrieve his hand before they started climbing. They soon reached his door, and he unlocked it so they could step inside.

As Baptiste turned around to lock the door, Lucio walked around and let his eyes roam over the familiar apartment. He had missed this place, having thought about it so many times ever since he had last left. The place had barely changed at all, save for a gorgeous blender sitting proudly on the counter.

“Like what you see?” Jean teased from behind him.

Lucio turned to glance over his shoulder at the man. “Absolutely,” he grinned. He stepped back towards Jean and wrapped his arms around the man’s middle and began to walk the two of them down the hall to Baptiste’s bedroom.

Despite the wall of muscle that was Jean, he put up no fight, letting Lucio do as he wanted, encouraging him with an eager grin. In no time they were standing in front of Jean’s bed. With one shove, Lucio pushed Baptiste backwards onto the mattress and climbed on top of him, straddling his waist.

“Tonight, Jean-Baptiste,” Lucio began, pausing to lean forward and give the man a kiss, “I want to take the lead.”

He could feel Baptiste shift excitedly under him. “I’ve been wanting to hear that ever since you pinned me down for the first time,” Baptiste confessed, “Got anything in mind?”

“I’m just gonna follow my heart.” Lucio said with a grin, “Been working out great so far.”

It was the truth. Ever since he had decided to live with some freedom, life had been wonderful. Sure it had its ups and downs, but life always did. It was the good times that made life worth living, he had learned, the good times were worth the risk.

He was still learning, to this day, and he was loving every minute of it. 

As he unbuttoned Baptiste’s bright shirt, and as the other man’s hands roamed mindlessly over his body, he smiled into the kiss.

Life was a symphony. It took so much practice to learn how to play the right song, and it was so hard to eliminate all the sour notes, and get all your instruments synched up, but once you did, the resulting melody would leave you breathless. 

He couldn’t wait to keep writing the songs for the soundtrack of his life. The opening number to this new chapter had reached its melodic and perfect conclusion. The only sound he wanted to hear on this next track was the world - his world that he was straddling, that was looking up at him with love and excitement lighting up in his eyes - screaming his name.

The future looked bright, open and full of possibilities for them both, and he found himself growing excited at the thought of the music he had yet to experience, the music he had yet to write, and the dynamic, endless discography signalling the beginning of new Lucio.

The soundtrack to his Con Alcuna Licenza life had only just begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos, comments, and feedback are always super appreciated!
> 
> Thanks for joining me on this fun little ride! I hope you had as much fun reading it as I did writing it! <3
> 
> Fun facts:  
> Every hero (as of 06/21/20), and some minor characters, is mentioned through-out the fic (It was a fun challenge to play while writing the fic) Hope you all enjoy the mentions as much as I enjoyed figuring out how to slip them in! =)
> 
> There was no good place to put it, but this is Olivia's favorite song / music video:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JEyRg5mXLAQ
> 
> Questions, comments, or concerns? Hit me up on here or on my Twitter: https://twitter.com/KittenzCaboodle


End file.
